


Three Deaths

by Diswrit



Series: Three Knives [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diswrit/pseuds/Diswrit
Summary: After only thirty years in hell, Dean Winchester is mysteriously resurrected. Searching for his scattered family and answers about his rescue, he finds himself pursued by an enigmatic hunter, the secretive Smith family and a colloquially inept angel. Meanwhile, Ruby struggles to keep Sam and Dean apart and hell desperately scrambles to get the apocalypse back on track before it's too late. Sequel to Three Knives.
Series: Three Knives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012326





	1. Change of Plans

"Now, wayward one, listen carefully."

Alice Smith narrowed her eyes at Naziel. She wanted to spit in his smug face, but feared the repercussions the action might elicit. On the other hand, she considered, how much worse could the situation get?

"You have work to do. A very important task. Soon, Dean Winchester's soul will be committed to perdition."

The turn in conversation was completely unanticipated and it caught Alice's full attention. She decided to hold off on spitting at him for the moment.

"By the time he arrives, you will be there as well. You must find him. When you do, say a prayer. Heaven will take care of the rest."

"The rest of what?" Alice probed.

"Never you mind."

Naziel reached for Alice's arm, but she pulled away from him.

"I'm not doing anything for you unless I know what it is I'm doing," she frowned. "And even then, there better be something in it for me. Since I'm doing it for a jerk like you, it better be something good."

"You will be doing nothing for me, you arrogant heifer," Naziel sneered. "Winchester is the one who will benefit from your cooperation."

"How?"

"Pray when you find him and we will remove him from hellfire."

"Why?"

"You ask too many questions. You will do this, Alice Smith."

"Like hell I will!"

Her immediate response seemed to surprise Naziel.

"Excuse me?"

"Seems like you need me to pull off this little operation of yours," Alice explained. "I want answers, or I'm not doing jack all."

Naziel smirked.

"You could watch your lover burn, knowing that something as simple as a prayer could save him, yet do nothing?"

Alice knew deep in her heart she could never do that, but Naziel didn't. Heaven had made a mistake by sending someone to enlist her who disdained her so severely.

"What do you think?" she replied tactfully. "Now tell me why Heaven wants Dean saved and I'll think about going along with this."

Naziel considered her carefully for a long moment and Alice was forced to wonder if she had overplayed her hand. How important was this little mission in the grand scheme of things, whatever that was? Exactly how much hot water would Naziel be in if he failed to secure her cooperation? Was it enough that he would be willing to compromise a little?

"The less you know the better," Naziel finally replied. "The less you know, the less the demons will be able to torture out of you after the fact."

Alice shuddered as she processed the grim picture Naziel painted. So they would save Dean and leave her behind. She supposed it made sense. Saving Dean from hell was one thing. Technically, his soul was clean. If Alice were to venture a guess, she would have said that without his deal, he was bound for Heaven. Snatching him from hell was bending the rules. Doing the same for someone like her was clearly breaking them.

"Take me too."

"Impossible."

"There's not a lot that's impossible for you people," Alice reminded him. "Believe me, I know you can do this."

"The ability to do something does not-"

"Damn it, Naziel, come off all that righteous crap!" Alice burst out, interrupting the angel. "This isn't a game! There's no way in hell I'm helping you unless you take me too!"

Naziel crossed his arms over his chest, considering Alice with piercing grey eyes that tried to see through her. Alice showed him desperation. There was nothing in existence she wanted more than to avoid hell. Not even Dean Winchester.

Naziel studied her for a moment that stretched into eternity, then laughed aloud.

"Anyone who could be so cold deserves to burn," he observed. "But I will do my best to grant your request, Smith."

"Promise."

It was a desperate last resort. Alice knew as well as Naziel that he was too powerful to be bound by her unbreakable oaths, but she didn't trust him. Deep down, Alice knew that the chances of her ever leaving hell again were slim to none, but she would try every trick she knew to increase those chances. At this point, none of it hurt.

"Very well," Naziel said, amusement tinging his concession. "I _promise_ , Smith."

Alice was far from relieved. In fact, she was consumed with dread that made her feel sick down to her core, but there was nothing more she could do. Naziel reached for her arm again and this time, she allowed him to take her away.

* * *

**Three Months Later...**

* * *

Greta Smith strolled the communal greenhouse, more to clear her mind than police the upkeep of the herbs that were so essential to the Smith clan's operations. Her gaze swept over the greenery, but she saw nothing. Her mind was far away, her thoughts tumultuous as a stormy sky. It had been a very, very long time since Greta had laid eyes upon an angel of the Lord. Even longer since they had graced her with their divine commands. For most of her life, she had accepted that her family would never rise to grace in her lifetime. Perhaps never in perpetuity.

Yet, little more than an hour ago, she had been visited by a messenger from on high. She had received tidings both glad and grim. Warnings of the end soon to come, and assurances that if her family played their role to speed it along, they would be guaranteed paradise.

"Harmony!" she called after an eternity of silent pondering.

The greenhouse keeper snapped to attention at her side. Greta regretted raising her voice. Lost in her reverie, it had slipped her mind that the girl was so close.

"Go to Theus. Have him call the elders to meet with me. All of them."

Harmony nodded silently and set off about her task. Greta left with her, collecting a leaf of lemonbalm on her way home. It's scent soothed her senses and cleared her clouded mind. She had much work to do and little time in which to do it.

* * *

Ruby stood shirtless before a grimy full length mirror. She carefully examined the scar near her navel that Alice Smith had gifted her months ago. From the outside, the wound had been healed for a while, but Ruby knew better than to seal herself back into Allison Smith's body based on outward appearances alone. She probed the area around the fading scar, still angry, but losing definition around the edges. A week ago, this action would have elicited dull, throbbing pain deep in Ruby's gut, but now the pain was all but gone.

Ruby smiled quietly. It was time.

She produced a dagger and went to work carefully carving another binding seal into Allison Smith's flesh. This time instead of continuing the line of broken seals that marched down her shoulder, she started cutting above Allison's left breast. Halfway through, she became aware of another presence in the room. She used the mirror to scan the room and spotted Sam lurking in the doorway, watching her with a cold, indecipherable expression. Ruby had gotten used to seeing that look on his face. Despite all their time together, everything she'd done for him since his brother died, he still couldn't bring himself to fully trust her. Maybe deep down, he knew she was using him. Maybe if he hadn't been so devastated from losing Dean, he would have cared enough to stop playing her game.

Lots of maybe's. Maybe Ruby was overthinking things and this was just the closest Sam would ever let anyone get to him again. Maybe after being hurt so badly so many times, he had finally walled himself off the way so many in his line of work eventually did.

The binding link was complete. Ruby pressed a rag to the fresh wound to stem the flow of blood and turned to face Sam.

"What?" she demanded. She could see the questions hiding behind his stoic mask.

Sam approached her, uncrossing his arms from his chest as he neared.

"Why keep doing that?" he asked, nodding to the new binding link. "Why put yourself at risk of dying just to keep from being exorcised? Why is that body so important to you?"

Ruby thought her answer through carefully while she set the rag aside and secured a patch of gauze over the binding link.

"It's not the body," she finally replied. "Don't get me wrong, Allison..."

She swept her hands over herself.

"... she deserves this. She wasn't a great person. I'm doing the world a big favor by keeping her locked down."

 _Bitch,_ Allison spoke up half-heartedly.

"But... mostly, I just can't go back to hell," Ruby went on, ignoring her host's weak voice. Since learning of Alice's fate, Allison was slowly but surely fading back into the ghost she had become after her younger sister's first death. Ruby couldn't wait to be all but alone in her mind again.

"Because of Lilith?" Sam pressed.

"Well, yes. But... look, even for demons it's not exactly a vacation," Ruby explained. "I'd rather die for good topside than be sent back to that hellhole."

Ruby's words were carefully chosen and they had the intended impact. Sam's expression remained the same, but she could see the pulse of fresh agony that clouded his eyes. She knew he was thinking of his brother. He was always thinking of his brother. Ruby made sure of it.

The moment was shattered when Ruby's phone rang, shrill and unexpected. She had to stop herself from jumping in shock at the sound and instead forced herself to calmly check the incoming number.

"Bobby again?" Sam asked.

"Bobby again," Ruby lied, hitting the decline button and quickly deleting the call log for the unknown number. "How he got my number is beyond me."

"He's resourceful," Sam sighed. "And worried about me. He'll be fine. He has nothing to say to me that I haven't already heard."

"If you say so," Ruby said carefully, pocketing her phone and pulling her shirt on. The truth was that Ruby was getting calls from a number she didn't recognize. No one had her cell apart from Sam. Part of her wanted to slip away and call them back to see who it was, what they wanted with her... yet the mysterious calls filled her with more dread than curiosity. She could think of a few beings that would be able to find her number if they needed it and Ruby wasn't keen on hearing from any of them.

"You ready?" Sam asked, unaware of Ruby's predicament.

"Yeah. This demon isn't going to stay put forever," Ruby sighed. "Let's go."

For now, the mystery caller would need to remain just that.

* * *

Kaydie Smith held a solemn vigil in a room full of bodies. White sheets covered the human remains from head to toe, shrouding all eight of them from sight. The room smelled of eucalyptus and lilac, strong enough to disguise any scent of rotting flesh. She watched the door with fierce intensity, ears straining to hear anything through the silence that blanketed the room like the shrouds that lent decency to the dead. On the other side of the door, her grandmother was meeting with the elders of all the families that made up the Smith clan. This had happened only twice before in Kaydie's lifetime and it was an event that always marked great change.

Kaydie could feel the change in the air, hovering over her home like a swarm of bees waiting to descend and sow chaos. She wanted desperately to know more about what was going to happen, but Greta had given her precious few details, none of which were helping her decipher the meaning behind the mysterious events unfolding around her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, rough intake of breath. It was desperate and hoarse, like a drowning victim sputtering after CPR. It startled Kaydie, bringing her back to alertness. She was disciplined enough that her widened eyes were the only visible indication of her surprise, scanning the room quickly trying to figure out where the sound had come from.

One of the bodies jerked and began thrashing beneath it's sheet. The breathing didn't get any less labored and spiked with panic as the man's struggles sent him crashing to the floor, still tangled in the sheet.

The sudden revival of the dead would have freaked anyone else out, but Kaydie had been expecting it.

"Hey, calm down!" she called. She took a few cautious steps forward. Behind the table, the thrashing stopped, though the man's breathing didn't get any less labored.

"Where am I?!" he demanded hoarsely.

"Somewhere safe," Kaydie replied. She was being intentionally vague. She didn't want to overwhelm him right now.

"Who are you?"

"A friend."

"You don't sound like any of my friends," the man replied gruffly.

"Well I'm here to help."

Slowly, the man got his breathing under control and Kaydie held her silence while he did. Finally, he rose shakily from where he had landed and Kaydie got her first look at him. Dean Winchester was naked as a newborn but for the sheet awkwardly wrapped around his waist. Kaydie forced a smile for his sake as he sized her up. She could see a glimmer of recognition in his eyes and knew he was trying to place her.

"I'm Kaydie Smith. We met once before," she reminded him.

"Right," he finally managed after a long pause. He sounded audibly parched, like someone who had just stumbled out of the desert after a week.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Kaydie went on. "If you come with me, I can get you answers... and clothes."

Dean regarded her with suspicion, but eventually nodded.

"How about a drink?" he croaked.

"I can arrange that too," Kaydie assured him.

* * *

Sam's powers were tricky to deal with. They were potent and dark in nature and it was Ruby's job to make him see the good they could do in the right hands. Luckily for her, Sam's desperation to get Dean back made that easy in the beginning. He was devastated enough to overlook almost anything in the name of his crusade.

Now, as Ruby watched him drag a demon from it's host in spurts and sputters, she finally saw something she had waited months to see. She saw satisfaction fill Sam's face as he came closer to exorcising his adversary. He was enjoying himself. All her hard work was paying off.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, silent but urgent. She frowned as she reached back to covertly dismiss the call.

Finally, Sam overcame the demon. It's host slumped, still and silent after all it's struggles. Sam stepped forward eagerly and put his hand to the man's neck, only to draw it away a moment later in disappointment.

"He didn't make it," Sam sighed. "They hardly ever make it."

"Most demons have no reason to take it easy on their host," Ruby replied. "We should get moving."

They erased all traces of their presence and left the man's body behind. Ruby would have preferred to bury the empty shells left after most of their practice sessions, but Sam insisted on allowing them to be found by the authorities. He wanted any family the meat suits may have had to get 'closure'. Sam had a considerate streak that often outweighed his common sense. Ruby found it nauseating, but she couldn't tell him that. She had to smile and commend his humanity. She had to act like it was something noble that she hoped to one day regain.

Ruby was sick to death of acting.

As she and Sam loaded their few tools into the back of the Impala, Ruby felt something she hadn't felt in months. An urgent tug that made the back of her neck itch. It was the sensation her ilk were subjected to when someone summoned them. Sam got in the car and waited for Ruby to do the same, but she couldn't resist this call.

"Ruby?" he called.

She allowed herself to be pulled away before he had a chance to turn and see her vanish. This summoning was unexpected and it filled her with apprehension. Who was forcing her to appear to them, and why? Her mind raced in the split second before she materialized at the location her summoner had chosen.

Ruby found herself in an upscale, brightly lit apartment. She blinked rapidly while her eyes adjusted. After working with Sam under the cover of nightfall, she was temporarily blinded by her new surroundings.

"Ah. Ruby, right?"

The voice belonged to a man. Ruby looked around and found him sitting on a couch behind her. He wore a suit and sipped a glass of whiskey. His red tie was undone, as was the top button of his gray dress shirt. A black suit jacket was slung over the back of the couch and a sleek, well shined pair of black dress shoes were kicked up onto a low coffee table.

"You're a hard gal to get ahold of," the man continued. His eyes swept over her, sizing her up. Ruby repaid his gaze in kind. It was immediately apparent to her that she had been summoned by a fellow demon. A fairly new one at that.

"Let me guess," Ruby said drily, glancing at the remains of his summoning spell, still smoldering in a copper bowl on the coffee table beside his feet. "You're the rude asshole that's been calling me non-stop since yesterday."

"Only if you're the inconsiderate bitch who refuses to pick up her phone," he replied snidely. Ruby opened her mouth to snap back at him, but he raised a finger to his lips and shushed her severely. To her surprise, Ruby found herself unable to speak. New as this demon was, he was still incredibly powerful. Her apprehension threatened to become fear as he set his drink down and stood.

"As much as I'd love to trade words with you all night, I called you on urgent business," he stated matter of factly. "Your work is in serious danger. I need to know how far you've managed to progress with Sam Winchester."

He released his psychic hold on her vocal cords and she swallowed hard to right them.

"What the hell do you know about me and Winchester?" she demanded.

"Everything. Now, update me."

Ruby was intimidated, but she was damned if she was going to let it show. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You first. Let's start with who the hell you are and why your nose is so deep in my business."

"What, no one told you?" he asked. "I'm your new boss."

"I don't have a boss," Ruby snarled.

"Semantics. Let's argue them later," the other demon said dismissively. "Your little operation has been seriously disrupted and you needed to be informed. Plans are changing. From now on you'll be answering to me. Capiche?"

"No, no 'capiche'. The only disruption to my 'operation' is you yanking me away from Sam without having had a chance to give him an excuse. The kid trusts me, but you can only raise a hunter's hackles so far before they bolt on instinct. So if you'll excuse me, you can take your 'change of plans' and whatever it is you think you need to inform me of and stick it where the sun doesn't shine."

Ruby prepared to leave, but the other demon scowled at her and spoke before she could make her departure.

"Dean Winchester is back."

His words froze Ruby in her tracks. Her mind raced as she processed the implications of this new development.

"What? Why?" Ruby demanded. "How?"

If this were true, Sam would lose all incentive to keep working with her. He would abandon their quest to hone his powers. Everything would be derailed from the ground up. It might even become unsalvageable.

"You don't need to worry about any of that," the demon assured her. "What's important right now is that you accelerate with Sam. Time is of the essence. He needs to be ready before Dean can contact him."

"It's too soon," Ruby said, panic blossoming in her chest. "We need to find Dean and get him out of the picture again. He needs to die, asap."

"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple. Dean needs to do more than die, he needs to be brought back to hell."

"His contract-"

"Has been rendered invalid. Look, you're delving into details that you don't need to be privy to. Your job is simple. Focus on Sam. Make sure he doesn't find out that his brother is alive, but under no circumstances are you to harm Dean Winchester, no matter how close he gets."

"All this on what, nothing but your say-so?" Ruby sneered. "I can tell you're fresh out of the frying pan, babycakes. I take my orders from way higher up on the food chain."

"Really? Cause from what I can tell, you've been a free agent ever since the Winchesters took out Azazel," the demon said with a raised eyebrow.

Ruby was again forced to stop and take a minute to keep her composure. Whoever this kid was, she had to hand it to him. He knew way more than he should. Enough to convince her that he might be worth listening to.

"Ok, newbie," she said cautiously. "Let's do it like this. Tell me who you are and how you know what you know and I'll consider not hunting Dean Winchester down and gutting him like a trout. Keep trying to play it tough, act like you're somehow my superior, and I'll do what I've always done. I'll take care of the problem myself."

"Independent," the demon observed. "I admire that."

Ruby was done accepting other demons as her handlers. At least this guy seemed to be getting the idea that they would work together as equals or not at all.

"You can keep your admiration. All I want from you is information, so start talking," Ruby demanded. "Don't stop until I know everything you do. A name would be a good place to start. Unless you prefer to go by 'rude a-hole'."

The demon allowed her a smile and reclaimed his whiskey from the coffee table.

"Parsifal," he answered. "And since you're so keen to get clued in to _everything_ , you might want to pour yourself a drink and have a seat. This is going to get complicated."

* * *

Dean sat in Greta Smith's living room, uncomfortable under Kaydie's intent gaze. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been here. It seemed like several lifetimes ago that he had come here looking for answers. Searching for Alice...

Alice Smith's tormented face flashed before Dean's eyes and he was deafened by a piercing, agonized shriek.

He blinked and the awful vision fled. He shuddered with trauma, goosebumps popping up all over his body. Despite the horror he felt at the brief vision, he tried his hardest to chase it, but it slipped away instantly and refused to resurface. Dean thought that he was already as unsettled as humanly possible, but he now realized that wasn't the case. The flash felt like a memory, but it was no more than a snapshot. He could recall nothing else.

Slowly, Dean nursed a tall glass of water while he avoided eye contact with Kaydie. When he'd asked for a drink, he'd been hoping for something much stronger, but was too parched to complain. Hell was fresh in his mind, terrible memories crashing over him like fiery, unrelenting waves. At least, up to a point.

_"I'll do it! I'll do it! Stop, please, just stop! I'll do it, I swear!"_

Dean's stomach lurched with nausea so intense that for a moment he thought he was going to throw up water all over Greta's sofa. The last thing he remembered was finally giving in. Finally breaking.

And after that... nothing. Darkness, then pure, brilliant white that had turned out to be nothing more than a perfumed cotton sheet.

"If you're gonna blow chunks..." Kaydie spoke up, "... The bathroom is that way."

She pointed and Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm... I'm good," he croaked. "How much longer?"

"Have you seen me getting updates?" Kaydie said sharply. She was struggling to keep herself from snapping at him, but her patience was dwindling quickly. Kaydie was no nonsense and to the point, and she couldn't stand people who asked stupid questions. Even so, she could tell that Dean was a mess. Who wouldn't be in his shoes?

Kaydie had long struggled to cool her naturally quick temper. She knew it was her achilles heel, the one chink in the armor of staunch discipline she had practiced all her life. She decided to treat Dean Winchester like another exercise in self control. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"I mean, not too much longer," she amended. "Can't be."

Dean had no way of telling the time, so to him, the eight minutes that passed after their brief exchange felt like hours. Finally, he heard the front door opening and turned in his seat to face the direction of the front door. Greta Smith made her way into the living room. She looked much the same as she had the last time Dean laid eyes on her, if not a little younger. She had a spring in her step and a gleam in her eye as she took a seat opposite from him.

"Dean," she said warmly. "It's good to see you again, son. You must have a lot of questions."

Understatement of the century.

"You could say that," Dean frowned.

"Ask away. I'm here to help you understand everything."

Dean took a moment to decide what to ask first.

"Why... no, _how_ am I here?" he finally settled on.

"Righteous souls don't belong in hell," Greta said. "I don't want to overwhelm you... tell me, have you ever seen an angel?"

Dean recalled his time in Bisbee, recalled the woman named Anna who Alice had claimed was an angel. He remembered her impressive powers, strong enough to evaporate twenty demons with a light he had been advised to close his eyes against. He had no explanation for what she really was, but he had a hard time swallowing the narrative that she was an angel of the Lord.

"I've seen things I can't explain on my own," Dean conceded. "But that's kind of in the job description, isn't it?"

"A skeptic," Kaydie scoffed from the corner. Greta shot her a warning look and she quickly fell silent again.

"You're right," Greta told Dean. "This job will show you things you can't explain, things that are hard to accept. How long have you been hunting?"

"Damn near my whole life."

"Then I can only imagine the things you must have seen and been through. Especially now that you've seen the other side."

Dean shuddered violently and sipped his water again to calm his churning stomach.

"Once you've experienced resurrection, everything changes, " Greta continued. "You're part of a very exclusive club. One that is incredibly blessed. From now on, you'll see things that will make your previous life seem like a game. Things that will be hard to accept, hard to rationalize. You'll need to have an open mind. You have work to do and skepticism will only slow you down."

"What work?" Dean asked.

"Holy work," Greta told him with a beaming smile.

* * *

Outside the Smith compound, a woman in black stood just within the cover of the woods surrounding the property. She watched silently as a truck was granted entry through the formidable front gates. Mosquitoes flitted all around her, and she grimaced as some of them bit. Even so, she remained still to avoid being seen. When the gates closed, she finally broke her pose, shaking like a dog to dislodge the irritating insects that had settled over her.

"Damn bugs," she cursed. "Damn Smiths. Damn it all."

She exhaled loudly in frustration and ran her fingers through black bob-cut hair. It was too short to tie back and internally, she cursed that too.

She hard another car approaching and decided there was nothing more to be learned about this point of entry. She melted back into the woods, bright blue eyes the last feature to vanish into the leafy darkness.


	2. Wisdom of the Damned

"Holy work," Dean repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a purpose," Greta told him. "One that you didn't fulfill before you died."

"Right. So what you're telling me is I've been brought back from the dead- by an angel- so I can... what, fulfill some destiny or something?"

"Exactly."

"Uh-huh."

Dean wasn't buying what this lady was selling. Why she would lie to him was a question he shoved away. He had too many other gaps in his knowledge to worry about that. It was undeniable that something extraordinary had happened to him, but Dean couldn't accept Greta's claim.

"So why don't I remember what happened?" Dean asked.

"Pardon?" Greta asked, confused by his question.

"Why don't I remember leaving hell?" Dean repeated. "If an angel came and pulled me out, why don't I remember that? Out of all the..."

Memories of hell began to rise like bile, unwanted and uncontrollable. Dean took a moment to push them back, struggling to keep his composure. Out of all the awful things he remembered, every terrible torment he had endured, why wouldn't he remember something as glorious as Greta described?

"That's a question I don't have the answer to," Greta frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Anyway, if that really was how it went down, how would you know anything about it?" Dean asked triumphantly. It was a 'gotcha' question that he was sure she wouldn't have a good answer to.

"One of the angels told me," Greta replied easily.

"One of... Right."

Greta began to realize that Dean didn't believe her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This is a lot to process. Why don't you take the night and rest? Kaydie will get you anything you need. If you have any more questions, I'll be happy to answer them to the best of my ability, but I think you should get your bearings first."

"Sure."

Greta stood to leave and Dean took a moment to finish his water.

"Do you want more to drink?" Kaydie asked once they were alone again. "Food, maybe?"

"Is there a phone around here I can use?" Dean asked. "And I could really, really use a stiff drink if you've got one."

Kaydie pulled her own cell from her pocket and handed it to him.

"If you want alcohol, we need to visit the village degenerate," Kaydie sighed. "You wanna follow me, or you want to get settled and I'll bring something back for you?"

"I'll get settled," Dean said as he dialed a number from memory.

"Ok. There's a room down that hall, to the right," Kaydie pointed. "You can sleep there for tonight. I'll be back in... maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. You want anything besides that drink?"

"No, that'll do it," Dean said as the call went to voicemail. "Thanks."

Kaydie acknowledged him with a curt nod and took her leave. Dean tried four more numbers but was met with voicemails and out of service messages for all of them. Worry knawed his guts as he tried a sixth. It was the last he could remember.

"Come on, Sam," he sighed desperately.

"You've reached agent Merrick, please leave a message and I'll be back to you shortly," came his brother's prerecorded response.

Dean growled quietly with frustration. He would try again later. He made one more call and almost died from relief when it was picked up.

"Singer's scrap and salvage," came Bobby's gruff greeting.

"Bobby! God, am I glad to hear your voice!" Dean burst out, unable to contain himself.

"Who is this?" Bobby replied suspiciously.

"It's me!"

"Who's me?"

"Dean!"

Bobby hung up in his face and Dean's stomach dropped. He called again.

"Bobby, don't hang up," Dean begged when the call was answered.

"I don't know who the hell this is, but this ain't funny!" Bobby raged. "Call again and I'll kill you!"

Bobby hung up again and Dean groaned miserably. He knew better than to try to call again. A glance at the date and time told him that what felt like an eternity to him had only been three months topside time. Even so, it was long enough that Sam had dropped off the map and Bobby would need to see him to believe he was back.

Dean didn't know how he had really returned or exactly what role the Smiths had played in it. He didn't know what their intentions were and that made him nervous. After the fiasco that had been Alice's reunion with them, the last thing he was inclined to do was trust them. All he knew was that he needed to find his brother. He needed to know that Sam was alright. After that... he would play it by ear.

Dean thought about taking Kaydie's phone with him but decided against it. If they turned the GPS on, they would be able to find him too easily. He left it on the couch and quickly explored Greta's house. He took a knife from the kitchen but otherwise left the home undisturbed. He poked his head apprehensively out of the front door, glancing around surreptitiously. It was light outside, but the sun was getting low in the sky. Dean figured he had two or three more hours of sunlight left.

He struck out through the compound that bustled with activity. Everything was much the same as the last time Dean had been there. He swallowed hard as he moved through the crowd, trying not to stick out. Kaydie had dressed him in all black and for the most part, he matched the Smiths who went about their business around him.

Dean had no idea where he was going and it must have shown in his demeanor. A man stopped him.

"Hey buddy, you look lost as hell," the man observed.

"Uh..." Dean hesitated, trying to decide what the least suspicious answer was.

"Can I point you in the right direction?" the man asked.

"Uh..."

The man raised his eyebrows at Dean but waited patiently for his reply.

"I'm, uh... I'm on my way out," Dean finally answered.

"The front gate is on the north wall," the man said, pointing the way.

"Thanks," Dean said.

The man smiled and walked away, leaving Dean a little puzzled. Either they weren't trying to keep him here or he'd crossed paths with someone who wasn't clued in to what was going on. Either way, he wasn't about to stand around questioning his luck. He made a beeline for the front gate, silently but urgently hoping that whoever was on duty there was as uninformed as the man who had given him directions.

* * *

It had been an hour since Ruby disappeared without explanation and Sam was miles away from the scene of the exorcism. He knew he was hidden from her powers by the hex bags he now carried for protection from Lilith and her horde. He waited for her to text him and set up a place to meet. With every passing minute he grew more anxious, curiosity eating him alive. He'd been working with Ruby for three months and in all that time she had barely left his side. What could have been so important that she would disappear without a word?

Finally, his phones notification tone informed him he had a new text message.

_What mile marker are you at?_

Sam stopped the car on the side of the road.

 _What happened?_ he texted back.

_I'd rather tell you in person._

Sam told her and seconds later she was in the passenger seat at his side. She looked exactly as she had the last time he had seen her.

"So?" Sam prompted.

Ruby had taken extra time to prepare her excuse.

"Lilith. She's making big moves."

"What does that have to do with you vanishing?" Sam frowned.

"I had to go play the part of a fly on the wall," Ruby lied.

"Alright. So what's going on?"

 _Your brother is screwing everything up,_ Ruby thought. She kept it to herself.

"Llilth figured out what we're doing," she lied. "Don't ask me how. She's got her sources, I've got mine. The point is, we need to speed things along."

Sam regarded her with suspicion, but he had followed her lead this far. He wasn't about to back down now. Not after everything she'd shown him.

"Ok," he replied simply.

Ruby breathed a silent sigh of relief. She hadn't expected him to believe her so easily.

"So what now?"

"Now we keep hunting," she replied. "We keep making you stronger. Until you're strong enough to get the job done."

"When will that be?"

His impatience put Ruby on edge, but she could deal with it.

"Soon, hopefully," she told him.

* * *

Dean was surprised when another Smith put up no resistance to his departure, opening the absurdly enormous front gates so he could stroll out. He couldn't help glancing back nervously as they closed in his wake. Part of him wondered if he was making a mistake, walking away from the people who claimed to have answers about his resurrection. He pushed the doubts away. He didn't trust the Smiths and he was sure that he could find answers on his own.

Dean trekked to the highway and started walking west with his thumb out. After being allowed to leave with no resistance to speak of, he wasn't really expecting the Smiths to come looking for him. He walked for thirty minutes before a silver sedan with darkly tinted windows slowed to a stop alongside him. Dean approached the car as the window lowered to reveal Kaydie in the driver seat.

"Need a ride somewhere?" she asked casually.

"I'm good, thanks anyway," Dean said, stepping back. He kept walking with his thumb out, hoping Kaydie would drive away. Instead, she pulled the car up, matching his speed.

"Hitchhiking's still dangerous you know," she informed him. "The world hasn't changed that much since you've been gone."

"Good to know. Pretty sure I'll be ok," Dean said dismissively.

"Come on, Winchester, get in the car," Kaydie said, an impatient edge creeping into her tone. She held up a bottle of alcohol that Dean tried hard not to look at. "I tracked down your stiff drink. Don't tell me my work counts for nothing."

"I said I was fine," Dean replied firmly. "Take care now. Thanks for the effort."

Kaydie scowled and stopped keeping pace with him for a few minutes. Dean couldn't resist the urge to glance back and caught a glimpse of Kaydie making a call. He turned his gaze forward quickly, carrying on with his thumb out. No one else seemed interested in picking up a male hitchhiker dressed from head to toe in black. He wished desperately for clothes with a more casual feel to them.

Kaydie soon pulled up alongside him again.

"Look, just let me give you a ride to wherever it is you're going," Kaydie continued insistently. "No one's going to pick you up. You look like a serial killer."

"Gee thanks," Dean muttered. He was afraid she was right. He looked around one last time hoping to see someone else slowing down, but the cars kept whizzing past.

"I'm not just making a run down to the corner store," Dean warned her.

"I'll take you anywhere," Kaydie replied.

"South Dakota?" Dean asked tentatively.

Kaydie's scowl deepened but she sighed and leaned over to push the door open for him.

"If we're going that far, do you mind if I stop back at home and grab a bag?" she asked.

Dean suspected a trap.

"Tell you what," he proposed. "Why don't you go back and get your bag while I keep my thumb out. If I'm still here when you get back, we'll hit the road."

Kaydie groaned.

"I'll rough it," she grumbled. "Let's get this show on the road."

Still suspicious, Dean got into the car with her while she pulled up the GPS on her phone.

"You aiming for an address in South Dakota, or are you just heading there for the scenery?"

Dean gave her Bobby's address. She tapped it in, set her phone down and started driving with a beleaguered sigh.

"You know, for being so pushy about giving me a ride, you don't seem all that stoked to be doing it," Dean observed.

"I'm not."

"So why do it then?"

"Orders."

"From Greta?"

"Now that you're alive again she wants to make sure you stay that way," Kaydie explained shortly.

"What's she getting out of it?" Dean prodded.

"I wish I knew," Kaydie said unhappily.

"So you're... what, my babysitter?"

"If that's how you want to look at it."

"I can handle myself," Dean bristled.

"Look, you're preaching to the choir," Kaydie stopped him. "You think I didn't point out to my grandma that you're a big boy? The woman is carved out of granite. Arguing with her is like arguing with a mountain. You can say whatever you want, the mountain isn't going to move."

Dean gave it up, staring out the window for a few moments while he gathered his thoughts.

"She's got a hell of a grip on everyone in that compound, huh?" he finally observed. When Kaydie didn't reply, he went on. "I mean, you just dropped everything to drive me three states over on her say-so. Do you just not have a life, or...?"

"Do we have to talk?" Kaydie snapped.

"Just making conversation. You didn't put on any music and this is gonna be a long drive," Dean pointed out.

Kaydie hit a button and a song began with what Dean could only describe as a cowbell. He immediately hated it. She took note of the distaste on his face and rolled her eyes.

"I'm the lowest paid taxi driver in the country right now," she said defensively. "I think I'm at least entitled to pick the music."

"This is music?" Dean asked, wincing.

"Let's find out," Kaydie said. "This album came out a week ago. Never heard of the band before. I've been trying to find time to check it out. If I can't do it on this road trip I'll never be able to."

With a groan, Dean reached for the alcohol Kaydie had procured. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be whiskey. Dean was wary of drinking it, wondering if he was going to pass out and wake up in chains back in the Smith compound.

" _Poor guy, that man John Thomas! His woman truly was a devil!"_

The song continued and though the cowbell vanished, Dean didn't like it any better. With a wince, he quickly chugged the equivalent of three shots from the bottle.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad," Kaydie chuckled.

"I'm a zeppelin man," Dean informed her. "From where I'm sitting, it's pretty bad."

"Hey, I'm not denying that the old timers had it going on," Kaydie protested. "My first crush was on John Bonham. I'm probably a bigger zeppelin fan than you could ever be. But that doesn't mean I'm never giving the up and comers a chance."

"You're not a bigger Zeppelin fan than me!" Dean countered hotly.

"We can argue about that later," Kaydie grinned. She turned up the volume and Dean coped by slugging another shot.

* * *

"You can stop scratching your brains out trying to find a way in, darling."

Outside the Smith compound, the woman in black was startled by a man's voice from behind her. She turned to face him. He was two inches shorter than her, but carried himself with confidence that bordered on cockiness. He spoke with an accent that he was making little effort to disguise. She placed it as Scottish, but it took her a moment.

"Winchester's on the move. Which you would know if you were doing your job properly," the man went on.

"You must be Crowley," she scowled. She had been informed that he would be watching her, but it had been her impression that it would be from a distance.

"You're quite the detective aren't you? Why don't you turn that keen eye toward the highway and see if you can't pick up Winchester's trail."

"Did he leave alone?" she asked.

"He tried to."

"They stopped him?"

"Not quite. You're supposed to be watching Winchester, I'm supposed to be watching you," Crowley snapped. "And frankly I've got better things to do than cover both of our jobs."

"No one asked for your help," she sneered. "I've got it handled. Ok, _mate?"_

She did her best to mock his accent, but it fell flat.

"You do a great cockney," Crowley observed. "If only you were as good at surveillance as you are at impersonation. Look, I've got places to be, bigger fish to fry. He's heading-"

"I know where he's going," she interrupted him. "That's why you black-eyed bastards picked me for this job, isn't it? Is he alone, or not?"

"He's with one of the Smiths," Crowley informed her, apparently tired of toying with her. "Blonde girl, twenties. Beautiful athletic figure. Oh, and she stinks of witchcraft. Unusual for a hunter... but I can't say I don't love a blonde who breaks the rules."

The woman considered this new information with pursed lips for a long moment.

"I don't suppose you'll make this easy for me and get me a car," she finally mused.

"Oh please, I've seen your rap sheet," Crowley chuckled. "One more carjacking won't hurt."

"That's what everyone says," she grimaced. "One more won't hurt... next thing you know you're hell's bitch."

Wisdom of the damned. If only the damned could share with the living.

"Keen observation," Crowley commended her. "Now if I were you, I'd get a move on. Your mark isn't sitting still."

With a grimace, the woman set off toward the highway.

* * *

Dean and Kaydie drove for hours and before long, Dean was loaded. He started to enjoy the album Kaydie insisted on forcing him to listen to, despite his initial misgivings.

"So this track is called what again?" he asked loudly, replaying what had become his favorite song for the third time.

"Dude. Listen to the chorus," Kaydie scowled. "No rest for the wicked, ok? Someone with an IQ of sixty could figure that out."

"I can't understand a word this kid is saying," Dean protested. "I just like the beat."

"Right."

"I mean, it's not zeppelin, but the kid's got heart. I could see them going places."

"You sound like someone's drunk uncle," Kaydie rolled her eyes.

"Well you sound like someone's obnoxious niece. What happened to no conversation?"

"Cut me some slack. That was a few hours ago," Kaydie sighed. "So, what do you think, Winchester? Is it time to stop for the night?"

"Is that my call to make?"

"Everything's your call to make."

"Greta tell you that?"

"Does it sound like something I came up with on my own? If it were up to me we would be in South Dakota as soon as possible so I could get you out of my hair."

"Aw come on. You're having fun on this road trip," Dean teased.

"Are you kidding me? Stuck in a car with you trying to sing along to all these songs you're hearing for the first time? Not my idea of a great time," Kaydie scowled.

"If you want better karaoke, play better music."

"Last exit for forty miles, Winchester. What's it gonna be?"

"I could stand to clean up. Let's get a room."

"How about two rooms?"

"Works for me."

They took the exit and settled in for the night at a motel. Dean got his hands on more alcohol and spent half the night sprawled on the hood of Kaydie's car, humming "Cage the elephant" and stargazing.

"Damn I miss my baby," he sighed, stretching out on the cold hood. " _Oh no, I can't slow down, I can't hold back, though you know, I wish I could. Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked... Until we close our eyes for good."_

"Shut up!" came an angry call from two doors down.

Dean gave a heavy sigh and resigned himself to silence. The cool night air felt amazing. The stars looked miraculous against their velvet backdrop, sparkling like diamonds above a poor sinner.

" _Ain't no rest for the wicked,"_ he sang under his breath, too softly to disturb the neighbors. " _Until we close our eyes for good."_

He sipped his whiskey slowly, watching the world turn as he fought sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw things that made him want to scream. Hell was seared into his memory, moments that burned like embers against his eyelids. One image in particular refused to go away.

Dean kept seeing Alice's face. He felt her blood running down his fingers. He heard her screams echoing around him. He couldn't help her, couldn't save her. All he could do was what he was told.

_"Dean! Please! You don't have to... they can't make you..."_

"Dean! Dean! Please, get off my car!"

Kaydie's furious voice brought him back to reality.

"Right," Dean sighed, rolling off the sedan.

"I'm running out for food," Kaydie said as she got into the car. "You want anything?"

"More whiskey would be great," Dean told her.

"Only if you promise to stop singing," Kaydie retorted. "You don't want to stay sharp in case something happens?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Someone could jump you."

"No one's going to jump me," Dean scoffed. "You're flighty."

"I'm practical," Kaydie countered. "You know what, it's your funeral. Just don't come crying to me when someone catches you off guard and robs you."

"I thought you were my bodyguard though," Dean protested.

"I'm here to keep you alive, not stop you from getting robbed."

"Well that's cold," Dean said, heading back to his room. Kaydie pulled off behind him, muttering under her breath.

"She's got a point though."

The voice was feminine, but unfamiliar. Dean looked around, taking a moment to realize that it was coming a car parked a few feet away.

"About me getting jumped?" he asked.

"It's been known to happen," the woman replied. "Especially on a dark, quiet night in a motel parking lot. Dangerous place to hang around drunk and loud."

"Aw... life's no fun without a little danger," Dean protested, approaching the woman's car. She was in her mid-thirties, with bob-cut black hair and piercing blue eyes. Dressed all in black, she reminded him of someone. He couldn't remember who.

"Right. So, where you heading?" she asked easily.

"Who's asking?" Dean dodged playfully.

"Call me Vera."

"Vera. I like it."

"I like that you like it. So, your lady friend didn't seem too keen on getting you that whiskey. What's a stud like you doing travelling with a sour crowd like that?"

"Only game in town for a hitchhiker," Dean explained, too drunk to be suspicious.

"Wow. Where you hitching to?" Vera asked.

"South Dakota."

"What's in South Dakota?"

"Answers, I hope."

"That's crazy, because I'm heading that way myself," Vera went on. "And unlike your sober travelling companion, I don't have a problem with whiskey or loud music. How do you feel about ditching the wet blanket and joining the party wagon?"

Her blue eyes were captivating and promised a good time. They sparkled with mischief and mystery, neither of which Dean could resist.

"You're not going to take advantage of me and leave me dead in a ditch, are you?" Dean asked. He meant it as a joke, but could tell that it missed the mark.

"Well I won't leave you dead in a ditch," Vera chuckled. "As for taking advantage of you... well, I'll do my best to behave. Can't guarantee anything though."

Vera's allure was too much for Dean to resist. After hours in a car with Kaydie, who had a major case of stick-up-the ass, he was itching for an alternative means of travel. To say that Vera was his type would have been the understatement of the decade. He just had one more question.

"Sounds pretty good, but I have to ask... how do you feel about Led Zeppelin?"

"Zeppelin rocks," Vera replied easily.

This was a match made in degenerate hitchhiker heaven.

"When does the party wagon depart?" Dean asked. If she was docked until daybreak he was going to invite her into his room.

"Whenever you're ready," she informed him with a roguish grin. "I've got nothing better to do than set sail."

Dean considered his options quickly and decided that it would be easier to ditch Kaydie if he wasn't here when she got back.

"Well then, let's hit the road," he said, hopping into the passenger seat of her car.

Vera pulled out of the motel with a smile that she hid from Dean while he played with the radio. She had her target.


	3. What Everybody Knows

_Everybody knows that the dice are loaded,_

_Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed._

_Everybody knows the war is over._

_Everybody knows the good guys lost._

_Everybody knows the fight is fixed,_

_The poor stay poor, the rich get rich._

_That's how it goes... everybody knows._

_And everybody knows that it's now or never,_

_everybody knows that it's me or you._

_And everybody knows that you live forever,_

_When you've done a line or two._

**_Leonard Cohen, Everybody Knows_ **

* * *

"Ugh... son of a..."

When Dean awoke the next morning he had a pounding headache. More importantly, he was nowhere near South Dakota, even though he knew enough time had passed that they should have reached their destination.

"Well. It lives," Vera joked from the driver's seat. "You were out for so long I was afraid I gave you alcohol poisoning."

"Leave that option on the table," Dean groaned. He tried to raise a hand to cradle his head, only to find that he had been cuffed to the car's panic handle. "I take it we had a good time last night?" he groaned, gesturing to the restraint.

"The best," Vera told him cheerfully. "Look, sorry about the cuffs... I just needed to make sure you didn't bolt as soon as you woke up and realized we were seventy miles past your destination."

"You wanna tell me why that is?" Dean demanded grouchily.

"I know who you really are, "James Bon Jovi"," Vera announced, making air quotes around the fake name he had given her. "I need your help."

Dean proceeded carefully. It was just as likely that Vera thought he was an FBI agent as it was that she knew he was a hunter. Damn his many aliases.

"Look lady, I think you've got me mixed up with someone else," he protested. He had to give it a shot.

"Dean, come on," Vera cajoled him. "You're a fairly distinctive character. There's no mixing you up with anyone else."

"Ok. I'd feel flattered if that wasn't such a pain in my ass right about now," Dean muttered. "Fine, you got me. What is it you need my help with? I don't know if you noticed, but I was kind of in the middle of something when you decided to kidnap me."

"Hey, you came willingly," Vera reminded him. "All I did was offer you a ride."

"Yeah, to South Dakota," Dean reminded her. "You're a few miles off at this point."

"Just a detour. I'll make sure you end up at Singer's scrap and salvage," she assured him.

Dean frowned. Whoever this Vera was, she knew way more than she should. Had he slipped her some details while he had been black-out drunk the night before?"

"Detour to where?"

"To see an old friend."

Her cryptic act was getting old fast.

"The only old friend I'm interested in seeing is Bobby Singer, and you missed his exit sixty miles back," Dean snapped. "Now either you stop this car and drop me off at my destination or I'm gonna break out of these cuffs, carjack you and drive there myself."

"So grumpy," Vera tsked. "Trust me, you want to take this detour. You just don't know it yet."

She handed him a smart phone. The screen showed a browser that was open to a news article.

"Abortion rights activists cleared of wrongdoing in Aberdeen Clinic Massacre," Dean read. "You lost me... are we going picketing?"

"Keep reading."

Dean scanned the rest of the article but could find nothing of interest.

"I don't get it," he finally confessed.

"Look at the witness composite," Vera sighed.

"I don't-"

"There's a pop-up gallery. Click it. You have to... you have to- Oh god!"

She snatched the phone from him and navigated to a pop-up gallery. When she showed him the screen again, he understood immediately. A rough sketch of Alice Smith glared back at him from the screen. The composite was clearly drawn from multiple sources, but unmistakably Alice.

"Oh," Dean said dumbly as he took a moment to process what he was seeing.

"That's right," Vera said, taking her phone back. "Your wild card hunting partner is on the loose and I need your help taking her down."

"That can't be her," Dean shook his head, expression troubled as he gazed out the window.

"It's her. The picture is pretty clear."

"No, I mean... She's dead," Dean finally managed. "I don't know who you're taking me to look for, but it isn't Alice Smith."

"This won't be the first time Alice has cheated death," Vera said, pursing her lips.

"How do you know all this about Alice anyway?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Me and her go way back," Vera said shortly.

"How far back?" Dean pressed.

"It's not really your business," Vera snapped. "Look, she's been back top side for two days flat and she's already gone on a killing spree. We need to handle her before she does any more damage. Are you on board or not?"

"Doesn't really seem like I have much of a choice," Dean sighed, gesturing to the handcuff locked around his right wrist.

"Look, I can't force you to help me," Vera pointed out. "Especially given the history between the two of you. But you of all people know how dangerous she is... can you really walk away from this hunt?"

Her words sent a chill down Dean's spine. Deep down he had always suspected that he would one day end up hunting Alice. He always imagined it would be when she went off the rails... had that finally happened?

Dean saw a flash of red, followed by Alice's bone-chilling screams. They haunted him like her ghost, as unshakable as they were distinct.

"Ok, say she is back," Dean conceded."Why would she tear up an abortion clinic? It doesn't make any sense."

"We'll have to ask her that when we catch up with her," Vera replied simply. "Medical supplies maybe? Or ingredients for a spell."

Dean imagined the kind of ingredients Alice could procure from such a place and shuddered.

"If it is Alice, she won't be happy to see me," Dean grumbled, shaking his head.

Vera cocked her head at him curiously.

"Really? Rumor has it you two were close... real close."

"Well, the closer you are to someone the more pissed they are when you screw them over," Dean replied with a frown. "I'd like to know where the hell you're hearing all these rumors from. No one knew about me and her."

Vera shifted uncomfortably under his questioning.

"I, uh... I've got my sources."

"Spill, or I'm not helping you," Dean threatened.

Vera chewed her lip, considering her options.

"Come on, this'll be a lot easier with my help," Dean pointed out.

"Your brother told me," Vera said reluctantly.

"Sam?! When?"

"Not long ago."

"Where is he?"

"Right now? Who knows. He stays on the move."

"How do you and Sam know each other?" Dean demanded.

"We... hunted together for a while."

She spoke slowly, choosing every word carefully. Her demeanor put Dean on edge. She sounded like someone who was lying, but he knew from experience that she had told him all she would. He had found out everything he wanted to know anyway. Vera's secrets were hers to keep.

"Uh-huh. Well, you know what else'll make this job easier?"

"What?"

"If you get me out of these things," Dean said, pointing at the cuffs.

"You're not wrong."

She reached into a pocket and handed him the key. He freed himself, rubbing the raw spot left behind by the cold metal bracelets.

"So, I assume Alice isn't going to make herself easy to find," Dean observed.

"She never does," Vera agreed.

"If we want any chance of tracking her down we're gonna need to know why she hit that clinic," he pointed out.

"Absolutely."

"You got any credentials?" Dean prodded.

Vera laughed at him and in response, opened her glove compartment. Dean nodded in appreciation as he surveyed her collection of fake badges.

"Not bad."

"Trust me. You help me nab Alice and I'll take care of everything else."

"Sounds like a deal."

Dean had one more nagging question that worried at him like a loose tooth. Once they nabbed Alice, then what?

He wasn't going to trouble Vera with the issue. He figured he would find out after he held up his end of this deal.

* * *

Sam was exhausted after hours in an uninterrupted exorcism session. The demon he grappled with was much stronger than those he had tangled with previously. This was by design. As the black-eyed bastard laughed at him, he became more and more desperate. Humiliation drove him as much as his desire to help the poor son of a bitch this demon was riding. He was right where Ruby wanted him.

"Sam, stop," she sighed. She tugged his arm to break his concentration and he almost fell over in her grasp.

"What's the matter Winchester?" the demon sneered. "Can't get it up today?"

"Keep laughing," Sam growled as blood poured from his nose.

"Sam, you can't keep this up," she told him quietly. "It's too much. We knew this was risky coming into it. It's time to throw in the towel and send this smug son of a bitch packing."

"No," Sam panted stubbornly, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve. "I can do this. I know I can do this."

"You're not strong enough," Ruby insisted. "You're going to hurt yourself if you don't stop."

"If I don't practice I'll never be strong enough," Sam argued.

"You can't practice if you're dead!" Ruby pointed out.

"I said I'm fine!" Sam growled, tearing his arm from her grasp.

"Sam!"

He reached out, grunting as he strained with the effort of trying to pull the demon from it's host. It shook and howled as it resisted his pull, fighting tooth and nail to remain topside.

"Sam, please!" Ruby begged, tugging his arm urgently.

Sam staggered, blood dripping from his nose and seeping from the corners of his eyes as he groaned with exertion.

"Sam, stop!" Ruby cried out. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a harsh gasp. "It's too much!"

She let his own weight carry him to the ground as he lost consciousness in her arms. With a heavy sigh, she laid him down and pulled her knife from it's holster on her thigh.

"What do you think you're going to do with that?" the demon in the chair asked her.

She stepped over the threshold of the devil's trap and slit the creature's throat. Orange light filled the room as it gurgled and slumped lifeless before her. She used the knife to break a section of the devil's trap, approaching Sam just as he came back to the waking world.

"What-what happened?" he gasped, pushing himself up onto his elbows to survey the scene.

"I sent him packing," she replied simply.

"I told you I was fine," he scowled, grunting as he rose shakily to his feet.

"Fine like a stroke," Ruby shot back. "You're bleeding out of your eyes, Sam. There's nothing fine about that."

"I could have done it," Sam insisted. "I could have saved him."

"Look, the fish was too big. We knew that when we picked him. It's fine. You can't save them all. You know that."

Sam cursed in frustration and put his fist through the wall. The shack they were in shook with his wrath while Ruby wiped her blade carefully.

"Some day you're gonna do that and hit a stud," Ruby observed nonchalantly.

"I can't keep doing this," Sam said in defeat. "I can't keep losing the people I'm supposed to be saving."

"You can't win overnight," Ruby pointed out. "You need to put in the work."

"What the hell have I been doing?" Sam demanded. "The work isn't working!"

"So you're gonna give up?" Ruby asked, thunking the tip of her knife into a battered tabletop. This was where she wanted him. At his breaking point. All she had to do now was push him over the edge.

"Maybe... maybe it's time to take this up a notch then," she suggested. She feigned hesitance carefully. This was delicate business.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we haven't taken this as far as possible," she said. "There's more we can do. More you can do."

She had his full attention. He wiped the blood from his eyes as he turned to face her, carefully keeping his gaze off the stiff in the devil's trap.

"What more can I do?" he asked suspiciously.

Ruby hid her excitement and did her best to look conflicted. "I don't know if it's a good idea," she said, biting her lip. "You might not be ready."

"Ready for what Ruby?" Sam demanded.

"Well... your powers come from demon blood," she explained. "If you really want to increase them... I mean, it's pretty obvious what you have to do."

"What are you trying to say?" Sam asked, staggering over to the table. He looked like hell, dried blood crusting in his eyelashes and clogging his nostrils.

"If you want to get stronger, you have to eat your vegetables," Ruby shrugged. "You have to go back the source of your power."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head, leaning heavily against the table.

Ruby sighed heavily and flipped the demon-killing knife in her hand. With a grimace, she slashed her own wrist and presented the open vein to Sam for consideration.

"Demon blood," she told him. "It's the spinach to your popeye. If you want to get stronger, if you really want to save more people, this is how you do it."

Sam looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked.

"Come on, Sam. You knew this path wasn't going to be easy," Ruby coaxed him. Her blood dripped onto the pocked tabletop, collecting in the fading light as Sam cringed away from her. "It's up to you. How bad do you want to save your brother?"

Sam locked eyes with her, lost in thoughts that were hidden from Ruby. She held her breath waiting for his answer. In the silence the soft drip of her blood onto the wood sounded loud as drum.

Slowly, reluctant as sin, he leaned toward her. He seemed skittish as he kissed her wrist, smearing his lips with her blood, dark as liquid shadow and hot as burning pitch. Darkness fell outside like a curtain over their transgression as he pressed closer to her, eyes sliding shut while he suckled at her wound. Ruby's breath hitched as his mouth moved, soft against her skin as goosebumps appeared along her arm. She bit her lip and shivered in delight, bit her tongue to keep from crying out in ecstasy. She wanted to laugh, wanted to sing. Sam Winchester had fallen.

His eyes snapped open, huge in the darkness, bright with fire like Ruby had never seen there before.

"No," he growled, pulling away from her in disgust. He turned away and wiped his mouth violently, spitting to flush the metallic taste from his tongue.

Ruby was devastated by his rejection but she refused to let him see it. Instead, she scoffed and shook her head.

"Figures," she snarled, stepping past him to the body of the man he had failed to save moments earlier. She cut a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around her wrist, leveling Sam with a glare as she applied pressure to the slice that slowly leaked her host body's blood over the scene. "And you wonder why you still can't save anyone."

"I'm not doing it like this," Sam said, rolling a drop of her blood between his thumb and forefinger.

"Why? Because Dean didn't want you to?" Ruby demanded. "You know, if Dean wouldn't have been such a righteous piece of crap he would still be here."

"Don't talk about my brother," Sam growled.

"Why not? Who's going to stop me?" Ruby hissed. She was seriously pissed at Sam for escaping her snare and she wanted badly to hurt him. "He's not here to defend himself."

"Well I am."

"Nice. And what do you have to say for Saint Winchester?" Ruby mocked. Sam stood abruptly, knocking the table over in his rage. He advanced on Ruby and she let him wrap his fingers around her neck. "Go on, Sam," she egged him on hoarsely as he squeezed. "Do it."

He grabbed her wrist with his other hand, slamming it back against the wall as he lifted her up to his height. Her feet were off the floor and she found herself unable to breathe as he throttled her.

"Tell me something Sam," she hissed while she choked, all but spitting in his face in her anger. "Do you really think there are any lines your dumbass big brother wouldn't cross to save your life?"

"This isn't about what lines Dean would and wouldn't cross," Sam shot back, digging his thumb into the gash on her wrist. Ruby laughed at his sadism and blind devotion to his brother.

"Right. This is about little Sammy... this is about your lines, right?" Ruby chuckled. "Because you have such strong morals... you're the odd one out in your family, right? Always breaking away from the pack. Is that what this is about? You don't want to be like your brother? Like your father?"

"You can go to hell!" Sam growled.

"Been there, honey," Ruby sneered. "Just like your dimwit brother... I wish I could be there now, just for a second! I wish I could see him burn! I wish I could watch them stripping the flesh from his bones!"

"Stop it!" Sam shouted, slamming her head against the wall.

"I wonder if he's figured out by now that no one's coming to save him?" Ruby taunted. "If he's figured out that his brother doesn't care enough to do what it takes to get him back!"

Sam's scream of anguish was primal. She had found the right nerve to press. He released her and attacked her wrist with animalistic ferocity. His teeth scraped against her flesh and she gasped in pain as he gulped down a mouthful of her blood. Even so, she pressed against him, desperate to drag him deeper down the rabbit hole he had tripped into. She couldn't stop herself from laughing this time, victory overshadowing pain as Sam moaned against her wrist. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, pushing him closer and smearing blood across his face as he met her eyes. He must have seen her elation, must have known that she was sick with glee over his defeat. Still, he didn't break away from her this time, couldn't bring himself to pull back.

Ruby had him.

* * *

Dean adjusted the thrift store tie Vera had given him. There were cigarette holes in the bottom of it, but what the clinic doctors couldn't see wouldn't hurt them.

"Yeah, that's her," Dr. Avery confirmed, pointing to a picture of Alice Dean had pulled up on his phone. She was one of three clinicians who had contributed to the police composite that tipped Dean and Vera to Alice's presence in Valley Springs. Now, she answered questions for Dean and Vera on the porch of her victorian style home.

"You expect a certain amount of violence in this line of work," Dr. Avery went on, shaking her head. "I mean, I've gotten my share of death threats from protesters, but this... I have never heard of a patient turning on a medical practitioner like this."

"We're going to need to know exactly what happened that day," Vera said, pulling out a notepad.

"It was insane. This girl came in for our help and she just turned on us like a complete psychopath," Dr. Avery said. "It all happened so fast... one minute Dr. Suthers was examining her, the next thing we knew she was shooting."

"Something must have set her off," Dean suggested. "What led up to the incident?"

"Nothing set her off," Dr. Avery scowled at him. "Dr. Suthers told her she would have to undergo a mandatory seventy-two hour waiting period before we could go through with the procedure, and she flew off the rails."

"And nothing was missing from the clinic after she left?" Vera asked.

Dr. Avery fixed her with a stern frown.

"This wasn't some junkie," she said severely. "The motive here wasn't robbery. This woman was a cold-blooded killer."

"You think she was here to carry out a vendetta?" Vera pressed.

"Possibly. I can't rule out politics as a motivation."

Vera kept asking questions while Dean's attention lagged. He found himself staring at the picture of Alice they had shown Dr. Avery. He remembered the day he'd taken it, right after they left Phoenix together. Alice's eyes sparkled in the desert sunlight, daring him to snap her picture. She stayed frozen in time with the wind rustling through her hair. Dean wished he had more pictures of her, but somehow, their time together always seemed to end too soon, terribly abruptly.

_The bottom dropped out of Dean's reality, leaving him in a nightmarish hellscape. Hot breath tickled his ear as Alice whispered something at his ear, soft as a prayer. It was, in fact, a prayer. She begged for help from on high, while Dean..._

He dropped his phone on the wooden porch, startling himself back to his senses.

"Thank you for your time," Vera told the doctor, fixing Dean with a curious look as they prepared to leave. "You feeling ok there, Winchester? You're looking a little shell-shocked."

Dean felt shell-shocked. He cleared his throat and retrieved his phone.

"I'm fine," he assured her, tucking it safely into his pocket. "Now what? This is about as dead-end as it gets."

"Now I'm thinking we get a bite to eat," Vera said. "Then we stake out the good doctor's house. Alice won't stay away for long."

"Unless she's three states over," Dean pointed out.

"No, she's still here," Vera said with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?"

"She's not done here," Vera explained shortly.

"You have a real problem with sharing details," Dean said snippily.

"I have a real problem with partners who can't figure anything out for themselves," Vera snapped back. "Tell me, Winchester, what do you think Alice Smith was doing at an abortion clinic?"

"I don't know. Getting an abortion?" Dean snarked. He meant it as a joke, but Vera nodded as they got into the car.

"Exactly."

Dean frowned at her nonchalant tone.

"What?"

"That's exactly what she was doing here."

"What are you, crazy?" Dean demanded. "That's not what she was here for."

"Open your eyes to the writing on the wall," Vera admonished him. She started holding up fingers as she laid her points out for him.

"First of all, she didn't take anything. She wasn't there for drugs or medical care. She didn't start shooting until after the doctor told her she was going to have to wait, so she's obviously in a hurry to get this done. Most importantly, there's no case in town. Alice had no reason to be here aside from ridding herself of an unwanted pregnancy."

"Ok, ignoring the fact that your theory is insane," Dean said, "Why stick around in Valley Springs? It's not like this is the only abortion clinic in the state."

"Isn't it?"

Dean did a double-take.

"I mean, it can't be, right?"

"Check the map, Winchester. It damn near is."

"Well that's... inconvenient," Dean frowned.

"That's the point," Vera informed him. "It's South Dakota, they're not trying to make it easy for women to get this done."

"Ok, but even so... it's too sloppy. There's no way Alice would still be here after what she did."

"Twenty bucks says you're wrong."

"I'll take that bet."

"You are _so_ on."

Dean got in the car with Vera, absently counting on his fingers while she started the engine. She noticed and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Whatcha counting, sheep?" she asked as she threw them into reverse.

"Months," Dean replied, starting over. "It's what, six weeks from december?"

"Eight," Vera corrected him.

Dean fell silent, biting his lip as he frowned out the window.

"Can't be," he said finally, crossing his arms over his chest and shuddering at the thought.

"What?"

"Your theory. There's no way."

"No way what, Alice is knocked up?"

"Can you please not put it like that?"

"How do you want me to put it?" she asked, rolling her eyes at him.

"Honestly, I'd prefer it if you didn't," Dean sighed.

"Look honey, it is what it is," Vera told him matter of factly. "If Alice is in the family way, are you still going to be able to do what needs to be done?"

"What exactly is it that needs to be done?" Dean demanded.

"Alice is dangerous. It's high time someone took care of her for good," Vera said.

Dean wanted to agree with her, but something deep inside of him wouldn't allow it.

"Why don't we cross that bridge if we come to it," he grumbled, loosening his tie. He had no weapons, not so much as a knife and it made him terribly uneasy. Vera didn't trust him to not stab her in the back, either literally or figuratively.

"You don't want to take her out," Vera observed.

"Not really, no."

"Why?" she asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. "After everything that happened between you two, I would think you'd be ready to put a bullet through her heart."

"It's complicated," Dean informed her. "Alice... she's not a saint, but she's not a monster either."

"A lot of people would disagree with you."

"A lot of people didn't know her like I did," Dean pointed out.

"So what do you think we should do with her?" Vera asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Dean admitted. "All I know is, I'm not ready to just write her off."

"Because of her, or because of the bun she might have in the oven?" Vera asked.

"Well, the bun doesn't really matter, does it?" Dean asked. "I mean, if you're right- which, let's get this straight, I don't really believe you are anyway- her whole reason for being here is to get the bun out of the picture."

"Humor me," Vera prodded, expression strangely troubled. "Say Alice was in the family way. How would that make you feel?"

"How about we focus on the task at hand?" Dean said, changing the subject before she could drag an answer out of him. "I'm not making it through an all-nighter without a jug of caffeine and if I'm right and Alice doesn't make an appearance, we'll be here for more than just one night."

"Fine. What did you think about that diner we passed on the way into town?"

"Looked decent. Seems like the kind of place that keeps a cheap slice of pie on hand."

"Your criteria when it comes to food are hilarious," Vera chuckled.

They drove to the diner and ordered coffee and pie. Once they were settled, Vera made a beeline for the bathroom. Once she was gone, Dean considered his options. It occurred to him that he could slip away while she was gone, but he quickly dismissed the thought. One way or another, Vera was right. Something needed to be done about Alice. What precisely that was could be debated all day, but that didn't change the fact that something still needed to be done. And it would be easier to get it done with Vera than without her.

"Winchester. You're about as easy to keep hold of as an eel in a jug of oil, you know that?"

Dean startled as Kaydie slid into the booth across from him. She raised an eyebrow at him severely and crossed her arms over her chest.

"So? What do you have to say for yourself?" she demanded.

Dean afforded her a tense smile, eyes on the bathroom door to her back.

"What can I say, I'm a free spirit," he informed her.

"You are so lucky my grandmother didn't find out you gave me the slip," Kaydie said, close to snarling at him in her anger.

"Or what, she was gonna spoon feed me castor oil as punishment?" Dean shot back.

"Funny. We'll see how funny you are when you've got twenty demons flaying your ass ten ways from sunday," Kaydie said.

"Scary. You know what though? Not as scary as a possessive pack of hunters who always seem to find you no matter who you hitch with. How'd you pull that off, by the way?"

"Tracking spell."

"Nice. Real nice."

"Don't get righteous with me over methodology Winchester. Look, I know why you're here."

"Is that so?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out. I know how you feel about her, but Alice is more dangerous than you know."

"I doubt that."

"There are things you don't know about her."

"Shocker. I know she has a complicated past."

"Jon Snow has a complicated past," Kaydie snorted derisively. "Alice Smith has a closet full of skeletons that would set even your broken teeth on edge."

She studied him closely and he shifted uncomfortably under her sharp gaze.

"Look, I'm just here to make sure you're ok," she finally sighed. She stood, glancing around the diner surreptitiously as she prepared to leave. "When you figure out you need my help, I'll be close by."

She left him frowning just as Vera came back from the bathroom. She noticed his troubled expression and raised an eyebrow.

"Pie let you down?" she asked.

"Yeah. Stale crust," Dean sighed, pushing it away. Between hunting Alice and being unable to shake Kaydie, he'd lost his appetite. It also didn't help that he couldn't stop thinking about the possibility that Alice could be carrying a child. His child, if his math was right. And there was something knawing at the back of his mind like a termite.

Dean was sure he'd seen Alice in hell. The flashes and glimpses that kept assaulting him were unmistakable. But if that was the case, how had she made it back topside? Dean still didn't even know how he had made it back.

All he knew was that things were getting more complicated by the minute, and he still didn't know where his brother was. At this rate, it would be months before he reunited with Sam. He didn't even know if Sam was still alive. He caught himself chewing his nails with worry and forced himself to stop.

Sam was a big boy. He didn't need Dean to look after him. He would be fine until Dean took care of Alice. He could worry about his brother after.


	4. The Eyes Have It

Sam woke up feeling like a million bucks. He felt like he could lift a car or run a marathon. Even so, he grimaced at the memory of what he'd done the night before. The hot tang of Ruby's blood stayed on his breath like a stain, reminding him of his mistake.

"Morning, Sunshine," she greeted him. Her smile was brilliant and Sam felt mocked by it. She'd stitched the gash on her wrist, hoping to speed it's healing along. "So. Tell me how you feel."

"Good," Sam admitted. "Better than I have in a while."

Ruby nodded, pleased with his answer.

"Good. We have a long way to go today," she informed him. "Our next target is going to be a challenge. We're going to need to hunt them down."

"Right."

Ruby frowned as she noticed the change in his demeanor.

"Are you sure everything's ok?" she pressed.

"Yeah. I just..."

Sam didn't know what to tell her. In truth, he felt dirty. Last night he had started down a road he had explicitly promised Dean that he wouldn't tread. He wanted to save his brother, but he wasn't sure how far he could go to that end. Deep down, he felt used. He felt manipulated. He felt a little stupid, but the deed was done. There was no going back now. He just hoped that he wasn't getting in over his head.

There was no way he could tell Ruby any of that. Because no matter how much they went through together, how deep he allowed her to drag him into the murky world of demonic influence, he still couldn't bring himself to trust her. He wanted to, badly. Ruby had been there for him at a time when no one else had. But that didn't change what she was, or who she was. It didn't change what she'd done or what he knew about her.

Sam didn't want to admit it to himself, but Ruby meant more to him than he had anticipated she could at the beginning of their... friendship. Relationship was too loose a word, no longer describing the intensity of the bond they had forged over the months since Dean's death.

Sam kept all that to himself.

"I'm ready to get going," he told her with a forced smile.

* * *

Dean and Vera watched the doctor's house all evening and late into the night. Dean got bored after the first few hours and managed to talk his hunting partner into a game of cards.

"This is pretty unprofessional," Vera told him as he dealt the first hand.

"Good thing we're not actually paid professionals," Dean shrugged. "Come on, put 'em up."

"I hope you're good."

"Oh, I'm great."

Dean waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she rolled her eyes at him.

"So which vice would you say you have the bigger problem with, gambling or womanizing?" she asked him derisively.

"Well for gambling to be a problem, you need to lose," Dean said. "For womanizing to be a problem, I think you need to be married, so... I'm problem free."

"Right. Tell me Winchester," Vera demanded, eyes narrowing at him in a way that bordered on dangerous, "What exactly was Alice Smith to you anyway?"

"I feel like we've been down this road before," Dean frowned, focusing hard on his cards. "Anyway, I thought your good friend Sam told you all about us."

"What does a little brother know about anything?" Vera scoffed. "I'd like to hear it from you."

"Alice was..."

Dean paused as he struggled to find the right words.

"It was complicated," he finally settled on. He split his gaze between the doctor's house and the game as the night crept on around them and silence engulfed the enclave.

"You weren't that serious about her, were you?" Vera asked. Her tone sounded funny, bordering on scathing despite the fact that, as far as Dean could tell, she had no stake in his relationship with Alice. He considered telling her it was none of her business, but was stopped short by the unexpected urge to defend himself.

"I was more serious about Alice than any woman ever," Dean admitted. "Hell, it was the longest running relationship I'd ever been in... she was the only person I could be completely honest with."

He grew somber in his reflection.

"I could be myself around her. No fake names or lies about where I was from or where I was going."

Dean fell silent, concentrating hard on his hand in the awkward empty space that followed his words.

"So you loved her then," Vera finally said. Her tone was still funny, this time in a way Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. Her expression betrayed nothing, poker face perfected, perhaps from years of practice.

"You know, I don't really get why you're so interested in my relationship with Alice," Dean snapped.

"Just making conversation," Vera scowled, fanning her cards out so they hid the lower portion of her face. Dean locked eyes with her and found himself unable to look away. They were bright blue, shining with the reflected light from the streetlamps outside. There was something so familiar about the way they held his gaze, unwavering under his scrutiny.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Nothing."

Dean considered telling her there was something about her that made him feel like they'd met before, but he was certain that they never had. It had to be his imagination.

"I've got a pair," he informed her to break the silence that was quickly gaining tension.

"Me too," she replied. Her pair was higher than his. Her attention was drawn by a dark silhouette creeping around the perimeter of Dr. Avery's home.

"Looks like you owe me more than just the pot," Vera said triumphantly, nodding in the direction of the house.

"I'll be damned," Dean frowned, turning in time to see the figure tumble over Avery's security fence.

"Time to move."

Dean was seriously perturbed by this turn of events. Vera was, by all appearances, correct in her theory about Alice's motives for being in town. He followed her to Avery's front door, where he quickly worked the lock over and gained them entrance to the parlor. Vera took the lead, gun drawn as she crept through the house, making for the back in attempt to head Alice off. Behind her, Dean's heart was beating double time. He was weaponless and realizing for the first time that he actually was in over his head.

_"Well, do you love her or not, Winchester?"_

In his head, Vera's voice sounded eerily similar to Alice's.

Dean couldn't go through with this. Vera had made a critical mistake by letting him get behind her. He picked up a lamp in passing and shattered it over her head with brutal, decisive force. With a groan, she crumpled to the floor, down for the count. Dean bent down to take her gun.

"Agent Hicks?"

Dr. Avery's voice nearly gave him a heart attack, but Dean managed to regain his composure enough to avoid accidentally shooting the woman.

"What... what are you doing in my house?" she asked.

Dean put a finger to his lips, nodding to the back of the house.

"You need to get out of here," he said quietly. "The woman who shot up your clinic? She's here."

"What?!"

"Look, I need you to get out of the house," Dean told her again, getting frustrated with her. He didn't have time for her to process what was going on.

"Dean? Dean Winchester, is that you?"

Dean froze in his tracks, Alice's voice paralyzing him. Dean hadn't heard her voice since...

_"Dean! Dean! God damn, you Dean Winchester!"_

The memory was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Dean struggling to adjust in the moment. He whipped around to see Alice standing over Vera's limp form, staring at him with open-mouthed amazement.

"Oh my God, is it really you?" she asked, stepping over Vera as she squinted in the darkness.

"Yeah," he said, starting to smile as he looked her over. In spite of everything that had transpired between them, Alice was a sight for sore eyes.

So it puzzled him when she raised her gun and started shooting at him.

"What the-"

Dean dove for cover while Dr. Avery screamed and bullets flew. Dean returned fire from behind a sofa, prompting Alice to duck back into the room she had come from.

"You son of a bitch!" Alice snarled from behind a wall. "I've been waiting for months to run into you again."

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded, peeking up from behind the sofa. He scanned the room to find that Dr. Avery was cowering behind a coffee table and Vera was still unconscious on the floor, oblivious to the fight going on around her.

"Getting even!" Alice yelled, taking aim again. Dean ducked quickly to avoid her gunfire.

"Hold on, let's talk about this!" Dean suggested desperately. "It doesn't have to go down like this!"

"What are you, crazy?" Alice demanded. "After everything you did to me? I'm going to shove this gun up your ass and use your spleen for target practice!"

"Look, I know you're mad at Sam!" Dean shouted back. "I get it! He pulled some real dick moves, and-"

"Sam? What the hell did Sam ever do to me?" Alice shot back, confusion coloring her tone. Dean was even more confused than she sounded.

"What?"

"Your brother's a scumbag too, but he's got nothing on you!" Alice spat.

"Alice-"

"ALICE?!"

Another barrage of gunshots passed over Dean's head and he wondered how close she was to empty.

"Guess again, Winchester!"

Dean's stomach dropped as he realized what was going on.

"Danny?" he asked in dismay.

"That's right!"

Dean cursed under his breath, checking Vera's clip and coming up disappointed. No silver bullets. She hadn't come in here ready to kill a shapeshifter.

"Well... this is an awkward reunion," Dean admitted. Especially, he realized, if Vera's theory was really right. "So, uh... I hear you're... what do they call it when a shape-changing freak of nature gets knocked up?"

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way," Danny scowled, stalking out into the living room quietly. Despite his soft footsteps, Dean tracked him by the sound of his voice. This kid watched too many movies.

"I've gotta say, I've seen some weird flukes in my time, but this... this one takes the cake," Dean chuckled, scooting along the floor to the edge of the sofa.

"Laugh it up, Winchester," Danny growled. We'll see who's laughing after I get my hands on you."

"Tell me something Danny, do you think you'll still be wearing Alice's face for the labor, or...?"

"Very funny. You're sick, you know that?"

"It's been said."

Dean took a deep breath and rolled out from behind the sofa. Danny was close enough to touch and he jumped when Dean appeared at his feet. Dean shot Danny in the gut and the shapeshifter doubled over in pain. Regular bullets wouldn't kill him, but they would buy Dean a little time. He tackled Danny, wrestling the gun out of his hand and hitting him in the head with it's butt to keep him down. Stunned, but still conscious, Danny fought back. He was stronger, but Dean had more experience. He hit Danny a second, then a third time, until finally, the shapeshifter was still beneath him.

"Dr. Avery!"

The doctor was whimpering behind the coffee table, eyes wide as saucers as she looked on in horror.

"Tell me you've got some silver in the house," Dean plead.

"What?"

"Silver! Do you have any?"

"I- I have a silver dollar collection," Dr. Avery replied fearfully.

Dean heaved a weary sigh and got off Danny.

"Great. Just great. How about rope?" he asked. He couldn't kill Danny right now, but he could make sure he didn't hurt anyone else.

"In the garage."

"I need you to get it for me."

"Agent, please... what's going on here?"

"Well... I'm taking this... woman, into custody," he explained. "My uh... my partner there is going to stay here and... dust for prints."

Dr. Avery gawked at Vera's unconscious form and fixed Dean with a look of utter disbelief.

"You're not really with the FBI, are you?"

Dean opened his mouth to lie to her, but realized it was pointless and gave up.

"You got me. I'm not a fed. I did just save your life though, so how about lending me a hand?"

Dr. Avery frowned at him severely, but stood regardless and gave a reluctant nod. She left and Dean wondered briefly if letting her wander off was a mistake. Was she going to call the cops on him? Should he make his escape while he still had time?

His concerns vanished when Dr. Avery returned a moment later with a length of yellow polyurethane cord. Dean took it from her and set about restraining Danny.

"If you're not a fed, what are you going to do with her?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding at Danny.

"I think you'll sleep better if I take the fifth," Dean replied. He hoisted Danny over his shoulder and started for the door, hesitating on the threshold. "When my partner wakes up, do me a favor and tell her I'm sorry about the lamp to the head... she just didn't give me much of a choice."

Dean left, taking Danny with him and leaving Dr. Avery standing in a living room that now resembled a war zone.

* * *

Hours later, Dean peeked out the window of the motel room he'd rented, surveying the parking lot as he pondered his next move. Danny was tied to a chair in the corner, healing rapidly from the beating Dean had dealt him. The whole situation was completely out of hand. In Dean's time, he'd seen some truly bizarre sights, but Alice's skin disguising Danny like a borrowed jacket make his flesh crawl. He could barely bring himself to look at the freak of nature.

Dean weighed the risks of taking Vera's car to Bobby's house. He was pretty sure she would come after him once she woke up, the only question was, would she be able to find him? Could he even go back to Bobby's with her on his trail? She knew that was his destination. If she did catch up with him, would it matter? He'd handled her once, couldn't he do it again?

Vera wasn't his only problem. Kaydie's car was parked across the street, but still within sight of Dean's room. He knew he would need hex bags if he was going to shake her. Bobby could help him with that if only he could make it there without Vera intercepting him, or Kaydie deciding to haul him back to the Smith compound, or Danny getting loose and bashing his brains in.

Dean let his head fall into his hands with a weary groan. He had a headache and wanted a drink, but couldn't justify getting one. There was too much going on around him. He needed his wits about him. He let his eyes slide shut for a moment, sighing in relief as their burning subsided for a moment. His relief was fleeting.

Hell assaulted him the minute he let himself relax, rushing forward like a hungry animal to devour any scrap of peace that he might have stumbled upon. He tensed as a familiar face smirked at him tauntingly in the burning darkness.

" _Why don't we make a deal, Winchester?"_

_The demon standing over him was Alastair, the closest thing hell had to a head torturer. Sadistic didn't even begin to describe him. The very sight of his twisted face was enough to strike terror into Dean's heart. His bravado melted away under his tormentor's practiced hand. Picasso with a razor. That was what the others called him, and the title fit._

_"You don't want to spend eternity on this end of my knife," Alastair purred. "What if I told you there was a way out? A way off this table?"_

_He punctuated his words with knife strokes and under the racket of his own screams, Dean could barely hear the offer he made. He heard enough though. Just enough to be horrified and disgusted._

_"Shhh."_

_Silence engulfed them as Alastair opened Dean's throat vertically._

_"So, sonny boy? What do you say?"_

_Dean wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he was too busy choking on his own blood. Alastair read his response from his eyes and clicked his tongue in disappointment._

_"Not to worry. If you're lucky, I'll ask again tomorrow," he assured the hunter. "Then again... well, let's just say you shouldn't get your hopes up too high."_

Dean came back to reality with a shudder, desperately grabbing his throat to make sure it was whole. The vision was terribly vivid, the pain reverberating across his nerves as if it was happening in the moment. He stumbled to the sink to splash water over his face, washing away the sweat that had settled there while he momentarily returned to hell. His hands shook and his breath came in heavy, stuttering gasps. He needed to get it together. He looked up to find wide, terrified eyes staring back at him from the mirror.

Dean took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's not real," he told himself under his breath, gripping the counter crushingly as he grounded himself in the here and now. Slowly, his heartbeat settled and his breathing evened. When he opened his eyes again, the terror was gone, replaced with shame. He could chase away the memory of hell, but not the guilt of what he'd done there.

What had he done?

Dean struggled to remember that part of his time, but he drew a blank. He was sure he had given in, sure that Alastair had broken him, and yet...

A groan at his back drew his attention to Danny, who was stirring in the chair. He squirmed against his restraints, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He spotted Dean and his features contorted with hatred. Dean ignored him, frowning at the reminder of the problems at hand. Hell disappeared under a mountain of worries as Dean turned his thoughts back to the issue of what he was going to do.

"So, what's the story?" Danny demanded, bold considering his predicament. "Is she back? Is that why you came for me? So she can take my life back?"

Dean afforded him a glance. Alice's face stared back at him defiantly, but the eyes that met his weren't hers and they ruined the illusion. Dean didn't give him an answer, instead pacing back to the window for another look outside.

"Answer me, damn it!" Danny growled. "I deserve an answer!"

"You deserve a silver knife to the throat, but people don't always get what they deserve," Dean replied ominously. "Not right away at least."

His response seemed to surprise Danny.

"You're just going to kill me?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"So... you don't care about the baby?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the low tactic and went back to giving Danny the silent treatment.

"I mean, you know it's yours, right?" Danny went on. "Yours and hers. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Dean opened his phone while he continued ignoring the shapeshifter. He was considering calling Bobby again, but if his last reaction was any indication, it wouldn't do him any good. Dean had to wonder if showing up at Bobby's house was even the right move. Would Bobby accept that he was back, or would he kill him on sight?

"Winchester! Winchester!"

Danny took a moment to get himself back under control and switch tactics.

"Dean," he begged quietly. "Come on, Dean. I know you. I know you're not this cold. You can't kill me while I'm carrying this child. Come on. You know you can't."

"You don't know the first thing about me," Dean assured him.

"I do. Come on now, what if Alice was still in here with me? What then, huh?"

"Then nothing. Now shut your mouth before I shoot you again."

"She needs this body, right? You can't kill me. Not if you want her back."

With Alice's face, Alice's voice, Danny was seriously starting to creep Dean out. He approached the shapeshifter, bending down to his height to study the vessel that had once contained his lover.

"Why are you still wearing her face anyway?" Dean demanded. "Doesn't seem like the smartest move on your part. All you had to do was shift and you could have disappeared. Why didn't you?"

"I tried," Danny admitted. "I couldn't. At first I thought I was dying. Then I figured out what you did to me."

"You mean..."

Dean gestured to Danny's stomach and the shifter nodded.

"It won't let me change shapes," he said angrily. "If it's not one parasite taking control of my body, it's another."

"Weird," Dean commented. "I gotta admit, I never thought about how you freaks reproduced. I always figured you were just... accidents."

"Freaks? We're as close to human as a monster gets," Danny protested. "My kind and yours... what's the difference really?"

"One of us steals faces and murders," Dean pointed out.

"Like you've never murdered anyone," Danny scoffed.

"No one that didn't deserve it."

"And the people I killed, they didn't deserve it?"

"The school full of kids and the mayor's wife?" Dean recalled. "My mistake, they really had it coming."

"You don't get to judge me," Danny scowled. "Not after everything you've done."

Dean started to tell him off, but hell flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked and a shrill voice begged for mercy. He swallowed hard and warded off the memories, staying stubbornly in the moment.

"Admit it Winchester. When it comes right down to it, you're just as much of a monster as I am. If you were any better than me, you'd give half a damn what happens to this baby."

"Ok. That's enough out of you."

Dean tore up a pillow case and stuffed the scraps into Danny's mouth.

"I don't need to hear about how I should care about a baby you've been running around trying to have killed all week," he pointed out scathingly.

If the situation wasn't so serious, Dean would have laughed out loud at it's absurdity. He looked outside for a third time. He needed to make a decision quickly.

His stomach growled loudly, interrupting his thoughts. He made sure Danny wasn't going anywhere, then made a dash for the vending machine. He met Kaydie's eyes on the way there, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end with the sensation of being watched. He hated being watched.

He pumped a few quarters into the machine and made his selections, only to be let down when the damn thing jammed.

"Oh come on," he groaned, whacking the thing in irritation. Usually he would have taken the loss, but he was too hungry and stressed out to let his quarters go to waste. He caught sight of a man in a suit a few doors down and assumed he must be the manager.

"Hey, your vending machine jipped me," he complained, approaching the man. He kept staring straight ahead, gaze blank as a clean whiteboard.

"Buddy, you hear me?" Dean demanded, waving a hand in front of the man's eyes in an attempt to get his attention. Upon closer inspection, Dean realized the man was wasted. He was wearing a tan trench coat and his tie was loosened and on backwards. His blue eyes came into focus and he looked stunned at Dean's approach.

"I need a refund," Dean went on.

The man frowned slightly and turned to look behind him like he thought Dean was talking to someone else.

"Can... can you see me?" he asked. His voice was gravelly, like he'd smoked a pack a day for the past ten years.

"Uh... yeah, you're not exactly inconspicuous," Dean chuckled, gesturing to the man's messy hair. "You look like you've had a great time tonight. I gotta say, I'm jealous. Seriously though, I either need my quarters back or a candy bar."

"I don't understand," the man protested.

"It's not complicated," Dean pointed out. "Money or candy. What's it gonna be pal?"

"You seem to have me mistaken for someone else," the man said. His tone was flatter than a pancake. "I cannot help you with your monetary struggles nor your apparent affinity for confections."

"Oh. You're... not the motel manager?" Dean asked. "Of course you aren't."

This guy was obviously three sheets to the wind and probably not the type to hold down a job, now that Dean was close enough to see him clearly.

"My mistake. Sorry."

Dean made his way to the front desk, only to be met with further frustration. There was no one on duty.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just great."

On his way back to his room, he passed the man in the trench coat again. This time, he was closely examining the vending machine, looking puzzled.

"It's out of service, don't waste your time or change," Dean advised the man.

"I fail to grasp the purpose of this contraption," the man frowned, tapping the plastic separating him from the candy bars within.

Dean kept walking, shaking his head sadly.

"Wow, some people really can't hold their liquor," he commented to himself as he reentered his room. "Ok, Danny, here's how this is gonna go. We're going on a little road trip. You can come quietly and willingly, or I can shoot you in the head every ten miles until we get where we're going. Nod if you understand."

Danny nodded slowly, fear and hatred competing for rule of his expression.

"Great. Now if I can just-"

He was stopped short by a knock on the door that left him frozen in place. He held Danny's eyes for a single second, panic petrifying him into breathlessness. In the next instant, Danny started screeching through the scraps Dean had stuffed into his mouth, struggling to draw the attention of the person at the door. Dean couldn't move quickly enough. He grabbed the bedside lamp and smashed it over the shifter's head. It didn't work as well as it had on Vera, but it dazed him long enough for Dean to drag him into the bathroom, safely out of sight.

Dean took a deep breath to compose himself, said a quick prayer, and opened the door.

It was the man in the trench coat. He had a chocolate bar and a bag of chips in his hand.

"The contraption surrendered your goods," he informed Dean, tone still flat as a plateau.

"Oh... uh, thanks," Dean said, as confused as he was relieved. The man gave no indication that he had heard Danny's screams. "That was nice of you."

"Of course."

The man gave a curt nod, then froze in place like a statue. Dean waited a few seconds, then chuckled nervously.

"You, uh... you want a good samaritan fee or something?"

Again, the man turned to see if Dean was talking to someone behind him. He looked back at Dean with eyes full of confusion.

"You can still see me?"

Dean was taut as a bowstring, certain that Danny would start screaming again any minute. He needed to get rid of this guy before that happened.

"Yeah. Ok buddy, have a good night."

Dean flashed him a tight smile and closed the door in his face. He needed to get out of dodge before the wino in the trench coat called the cops. He pulled Danny out of the bathroom, slashing the ropes that bound him to the chair and hauling him to his feet.

"Let's go."

Danny gave protest that was muffled by the pillow case in his mouth and which Dean ignored. A glance out the peephole in the door told him that they man in the trench coat was off his doorstep. He poked his head out the door warily and spotted the man down by the vending machine again, poking the buttons with confounded curiosity. Dean quickly weighed his options and decided it was safe to make a break for it.

"Remember, you come quietly or I shoot you," Dean reminded Danny for good measure. He marched him briskly to Vera's car and shoved him into the trunk. He caught Kaydie's judgemental gaze as he got into the car and avoided the blank stare of the drunk man in the trench coat. Too many sets of eyes. They set him on edge. He felt like a prey animal surrounded by predators. He would feel better when he made it to the highway.

He needed Bobby's help, but knew he couldn't show up on his doorstep. Not with Kaydie following him and the possibility of Vera coming after him. He tore into his candy bar as he worked the problems over in his mind.

"To kill or not to kill," he wondered aloud. He wasn't sure why he was hesitant to put Danny down. He supposed the thought of killing something that looked so much like Alice was what unsettled him. It felt like closing a door. Ending a chapter. Not that it meant much. If Alice somehow found her way back to the world of the living, there were plenty of hosts for her to inhabit.

Where was Alice? Dean didn't want to revisit the horrors of hell, but he forced himself to concentrate hard on the last thing he remembered before he woke up in the Smith compound.

_He sensed more than saw the quick flash of a blade, heard a woman's shrill screams and the mocking demonic laughter of his tormentor..._

Dean groaned as a headache hit him like a freight train. Dizziness assaulted him and he was forced to pull the car over until it subsided. His vision went white, and no matter how hard he tried, he could remember nothing else. A sharp pain in his arm drew his attention and he realized his Torxing marks were beginning a fresh cycle. He let them bleed, putting the car back into drive and continuing toward the highway.

Dean felt like he was lost, drifting in a sea of unanswered questions. He needed to know what had become of Alice, needed to know how he had really made it out of hell and why he couldn't remember. He needed to see Sam and he needed some advice about what to do with the pregnant shapeshifter in his trunk.

Dean needed a plan.


	5. Old Friends and Followers

_Got so much to lose, got so much to prove,_

_God don't let me lose my mind._

_Trouble on my left, trouble on my right,_

_I've been facing trouble almost all my life._

_My sweet love won't you pull me through,_

_everywhere I look I catch a glimpse of you._

_I said it was love, and I did it for love..._

**_Cage the Elephant, Trouble_ **

* * *

Kaydie had initially been resentful of the assignment Greta had given her. She felt like watching Winchester was beneath her. After her grandma, she held the most clout in the Smith family. She was second in command, destined to one day take Greta's place as their leader. How could Greta have her drop everything so she could tail some unaffiliated, nobody hunter? Despite her misgivings, she had never in her life disobeyed her grandma and she wasn't about to start now. If Greta insisted Dean was important, then he must be.

As time went on though, Kaydie found she actually enjoyed the simple task that had been doled out to her. The older she got, the busier she got, and she hadn't realized just how little free time she had these days. Not until she found herself drowning in it, struggling to find ways to make the hours pass more quickly in her cramped car. She got calls every hour from her family members, working around the country and one or two overseas. Every time, she told them she was busy and that they were to call her grandmother. Eventually, her phone stopped ringing and she had something that she realized she had given up when she turned twelve; Kaydie had peace.

Peace was nice, she thought wistfully, but she didn't dare let herself get too used to it. All it took was one call from Greta and she would be thrust back into the fray that was her daily routine.

In an effort to keep herself from becoming bored, she stopped using spells and started following Dean the old fashioned way just for the hell of it. And boy, was he ever an entertaining mark to keep tabs on. She could do nothing but watch Dean's movements bemusedly as he ditched the hunter who had taken him off Kaydie's hands a few states back. He emerged from a clinic doctor's house carrying an unconscious, bloodied woman Kaydie instantly realized she knew. Her eyes narrowed with anger as she recognized her cousin Alice. When last they'd met, Alice had beaten Kaydie into a stupor, stolen her clothes and vanished from their compound like the ghost she was.

Kaydie was fiercely proud of her combat skills. Among her kin, she had a reputation for being the best. To be taken down by an outsider was humiliating and it lit a fire under her easy temper. She wanted nothing more than to repay her cousin in kind.

Maybe another time. She forced herself to calm down as she trailed Winchester to a cheap motel. He vanished into a room with Alice for a while, only to emerge for an apparent vending machine run. This was when things got really interesting. Kaydie leaned forward in her seat, watching raptly as Dean appeared to have a conversation with the thin air ten feet away from the vending machine. She pulled out a pair of binoculars and tried to make sense of the bizarre scene, but saw nothing to indicate that Dean was doing anything more than completely losing his marbles.

"Weird," she muttered to herself.

In their line of work, she supposed they did take quite a few hard knocks to the head. Heck, the man had been to hell and back... if that wasn't enough to scramble someones eggs, she didn't know what was.

He returned to his room, only to open the door moments later and have another brief conversation with no one. Kaydie wondered if she should let Greta know that Winchester seemed to be prone to psychotic episodes. Before she could make up her mind, he exited the room with Alice in tow. She was bound and gagged and quickly shoved unceremoniously into the trunk of the car Dean had stolen from the dark-haired hunter he'd ditched at the doctors house. Kaydie scratched her head at the display. It had been her impression that Alice and Dean were close, but what did she know? That impression was based on a half hour long conversation he'd had with her grandmother years ago.

As he drove away, Kaydie prepared to follow him, but something stopped her. Curiosity got the better of her and she made a sharp u-turn, heading back to the motel.

She dug around in her trunk and came up with a bundle of herbs. She set fire to it's end and trailed it behind her as she walked along the stretch of sidewalk where Dean had apparently been talking to himself.

"(1)Ostende mihi, quid hic lateant," she chanted. "Ostende mihi, quid hic lateant. Ostende mihi, quid hic lateant."

"I'd be careful if I were you."

A deep, toneless voice at Kaydie's back drew her attention. She turned to see a disheveled man in a light trench coat standing near the vending machine.

"A few more words and you might be shown something your fragile eyes are not meant to see," he warned her. Kaydie could make out two enormous, shadowy shapes behind him. They were about as substantial as mist and she had to focus hard to glimpse them. She waved the herbs in an arc over her head, squinting at the shapes that momentarily gained a little more substance. Just enough for her to identify them as wings.

Kaydie's breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was seeing.

"You- You're a... you're an... an..."

He was an angel, but she found herself unable to say it. It was too wild, too unbelievable. Kaydie had grown up hearing stories about these creatures, but no one had seen one in at least two generations.

"I am Castiel," he told her. She managed to compose herself with great effort and shook the herbs until the embers on their tips died.

"Why are you here?" she blurted without thinking. Of all the places to find such a being, a sleazy, cheap motel wouldn't have been the first place she looked.

"I have been ordered to watch Dean Winchester, but... the task is proving to be more difficult than I had anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

"I should be invisible to his eyes, but it would seem that I am unable to hide myself from him," Castiel explained. "Our bond must be more profound than we anticipated."

"Your bond?"

"Your inquisitiveness is becoming irksome," Castiel informed her. "I do not have time to answer your questions, hunter. I have a task. One which I am, thus far, failing miserably."

He looked terribly disturbed by this fact.

"You know, I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on Winchester too," she told him. "I can't make myself invisible to him either, but I've been managing pretty well so far."

"How?" Castiel asked, sounding skeptical.

"Well..."

Kaydie had an idea, remembering her grandma's stories. The ones where hunters and angels worked side by side.

"I mean, I could show you if you want," she offered. "I'm going after him now. You could come with me."

Castiel considered her proposal for a long moment and finally gave a brisk nod.

"Very well."

Kaydie could hardly believe her ears. She felt like a little girl on Christmas morning, her heart practically beating out of her chest with excitement. She couldn't wait to text Greta and tell her about this new development.

It was hard, but Kaydie kept a lid on her enthusiasm as she led Castiel to her car. She was determined to conduct herself with dignity. Being the first Smith to work with an angel in several generations, she knew it was going to be hard to keep the privilege from going to her head.

"This mode of transportation is incredibly conspicuous," Castiel pointed out with a terse frown. "How do you intend to disguise your presence from Dean?"

"Oh, he knows I'm following him," Kaydie explained as they pulled out of the parking lot. "No need to hide after you've been made."

"Made?"

"Uh. You know. After your mark notices that you're tailing them."

"Tailing?"

Kaydie regarded him suspiciously.

"Are you seriously not understanding me?"

"This is my first major foray onto this plane of existence in several centuries," Castiel defended himself grumpily. "Modern colloquialisms are far from my area of expertise."

"Right."

In under five minutes, Castiel had managed to erode some of the magic Kaydie had first felt at the idea of working with him. She cleared her throat, concentrating on the task at hand and trying to keep her disappointment in check. This was still a nearly unimaginable blessing. She just had to focus on the bright side. An angel was an angel, no matter how touchy.

* * *

Bobby Singer was getting weird calls. Which was saying a lot, considering he got calls day and night from drunken nomadic serial killers looking for information and alibis. Bobby got calls from every corner of the country and a few from Canada when the weather turned cold and their crawlies started to creep.

Bobby Singer rarely got calls from the great beyond.

He glared at his telephone over a glass of whiskey, daring it to ring again. He was boiling with rage at the anonymous caller claiming to be Dean Winchester. Whoever it was had a hell of a lot of nerve. A lot of balls too. Bobby was one call away from tracing the bastard's location and teaching him what it meant to be sorry.

Not a lot in this world had the ability to rattle Bobby Singer, but those two calls manage to set him on edge during the days that followed. Every time the phone rang his eyes narrowed as he took the call and he breathed a sigh of relief when it was a hunter asking for lore or the best way to kill a yeti.

"It's not a yeti, ya idjit," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. "Because yeti isn't real. No, it's not bigfoot either. If I had to guess? A bear and a boatload of beer."

He hung up, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"I swear, some of these damn hunters had the sense knocked clean out of their heads decades ago," he sighed. He frowned at himself. "And if I don't quit talking to myself, then before long I'll be as senseless as they are."

Bobby poured himself a drink. He was pouring himself a lot of drinks these days, but he didn't have the energy to worry about his liver. A small voice in the back of his head chided him for not taking better care of himself, but that voice hurt him more than anything else in the entire world. Any reminder of Karen was more likely to send him on a bender than to sober him up.

No sooner had Bobby poured his drink than his phone rang again.

"Yeah."

"Hello, am I speaking with Gerald Plank?" came a man's voice from the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Bobby repeated. It was one of his aliases. He frowned as he struggled to pull together a mental list of people who knew him by that name. The last time he used it had been on a hunt with John Winchester. That was a hell of a long time ago. "How can I help you?"

"This is Sheriff Mark Timothy with the Garretson police department.

"Mark Timothy?"

Bobby's hackles shot up immediately. First of all, Mark Timothy was the one of the fakest sounding names he'd ever heard. Which was saying something, considering that most of the poeple he knew went by no less than a dozen fake names a year. Secondly, he was unpleasantly acquainted with the Sheriff of Garretson.

"What happened to Hank?" he demanded.

"Uh... pardon?"

"Last I checked, Hank Landers was Sheriff in Garretson.

"Right, of course. You, uh... you didn't hear? He... retired."

Admittedly, Bobby didn't keep up with Garretson politics. In fact, it had been years since he'd been there. Once upon a time, he would meet up with a group of fishing buddies there for a drink before they would all head out together... that was a long time ago. Another lifetime, another Bobby Singer.

"Uh-huh," Bobby grunted suspiciously, waiting to hear what this new Sheriff had to say.

"Anyway, we have a John Doe sitting in our morgue."

"Is that so? What's it got to do with me?"

"He had your name and number in his wallet and at the time being, that's all the information we have to go on. I was hoping you could come into town at your earliest convenience, maybe help us ID this guy."

"ID him, huh? Well, I didn't have any hot dates this weekend anyway," Bobby sighed. "How's tomorrow 'round noon?"

"I sure appreciate it."

"Yeah."

Bobby hung up and pursed his lips as he wondered what was brewing in Garretson. The town was tiny and little more than an hours drive from Sioux Falls. The stiff they needed help IDing could only be a hunter. Who else would have one of Bobby's aliases on him? If there was a dead hunter in Garretson, that meant that there was an unsolved case as well. A ghost or monster still on the loose.

Bobby decided it would be wise to start packing for his trip tonight. He wanted to be ready to settle any unfinished business lurking at his destination.

* * *

Vera woke up on Dr. Avery's couch with a splitting headache. She sat up quickly with a groan, surveying the destruction around her.

"Dean!" she growled. "Damn it!"

She stood, wincing as the pounding in her head intensified. Day was breaking outside, the sun's first rays filtering delicately through Dr. Avery's white living room drapes. Vera investigated the scene of last night's disaster, piecing together a picture of a gunfight. She counted the bullet holes in the walls and furniture, scrutinizing their positions. They spoke of two shooters, one far more trigger happy than the other. The more reserved of the two had fired only a handful of times, four at the most. They were a much better shot than their opponent. Dean, Vera was sure.

The carpet was stained with blood that had flowed heavily enough to pool. The less experienced of the shooters had taken a hit. Someone had hastily tried to soak up the worst of it, long enough after the fact that most of the blood had already dried, making their task nigh impossible. On a hunch, Vera knelt and pulled a silver knife from her jacket. She pressed it to the blood stain and steam rose at the point of contact.

The shapeshifter.

Vera parted the drapes, searching for her car. It was nowhere to be found. It wasn't a great feat of detective work to figure out that Dean had taken it. If she was right, he had the shapeshifter too. She wondered if he knew who it was or if he still thought it was Alice. Only one way to find out.

Vera roamed Dr. Avery's house. She gulped down a few painkillers for her headache, helped herself to a few other supplies and waited in the garage for the doctor to return. She slowly munched a fritter she'd pilfered from the kitchen, relishing the taste and pondering the magnificence of worldly pleasures like food.

Ten minutes into her vigil, someone spoke behind her, startling her so badly that she dropped the uneaten half of her treat.

"So tell me."

Crowley's voice was unmistakable.

"Do you have a plan? Or are you making this up as you go along?"

"Don't you have anything better to do than breathe down my neck?" Vera demanded, rising and turning to face him.

"A million things, but our darling queen considers this the most important," Crowley replied. "Too important to for you to 'wing it', as the kids say these days."

"I'm not winging anything," Vera scowled. "This isn't an exact science. If you think you can do a better job, then why don't you?"

"Oh kitten, you don't want me to have to do your job for you," Crowley assured her. "The only reason you're not slow roasting right at this very moment is that you're supposedly going to bag us Winchester's soul. If you can't hold up your end of the bargain, it's right back into the hotbox with you."

"I can get him to sign another contract," Vera said, refusing to let him see how rattled she was by his threat. "I just need time."

"Ah, time. Of course, it's only the end of the world," Crowley said sardonically. "I'm sure it won't mind waiting while you take your time."

"You know, he isn't the only righteous man in the world," Vera pointed out. "There has to be a saint out there who'd be happy to sign their soul away for a little worldly comfort."

"Oh sure, plenty."

"So why do you need Dean so bad? Why go to all the trouble?"

"I have to admit, I've wondered the same thing myself. Rumor among the troops is that it's got to do with his bloodline... fate, destiny, all that jazz. But it's all speculation. Who can really say why the higher-ups do things the way they do?"

Crowley took a few steps forward, getting just close enough to Vera for her to smell his cologne. It was close enough to make the situation tensely uncomfortable.

"At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter, does it?" he asked pointedly. "Speed this along, or I'll see to it personally that you and loverboy both spend the rest of eternity rotting in the deepest, darkest parts of hell you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares."

Vera swallowed hard, lips pressed into a thin, tight line as she struggled to keep her helpless rage from showing on her face. Crowley patted her on the back condescendingly and disappeared with a sinister smile. Vera let out the breath she'd been holding, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes until she regained her composure. She needed to save herself from hell, but the cost at which her salvation would come... would it really be worth it?

_"So you loved her then."_

A moment from the night before came back to taunt Vera, to remind her of what an awful bargain she had struck.

_Dean didn't answer her, but his expression spoke volumes. Her heart nearly gave out as she realized what it was saying. He did love Alice Smith. The revelation tore at her soul like a rusty razor. Deep down, something ugly in her nature had been hoping he would give her an excuse to betray him, a reason to send him back to damnation. Anything that might free her from the guilt that had consumed her every waking moment since making the deal that exonerated her from hell. Instead, she was forced to face the reality that he didn't deserve what she was going to do to him. He didn't deserve hell and most agonizingly of all, she didn't deserve him._

Minutes later, the garage door opened and Dr. Avery parked a red sedan. She got out of the car carrying a bag full of cleaning supplies. For the bloodstain in her carpet, no doubt. She shivered and her breath emerged in a pale cloud, despite the fact that just beyond the garage, the day was sunny and warm. She greeted Vera with the false name she had given her the day before, unaware of the danger she was in.

It was too bad she got home after Crowley made his appearance. Vera was pissed, backed into a corner from which there was no escape. Between saving Dean and saving herself, she had only one choice. It didn't matter how good he was, how much better than she. Hell was hot and eternity lasted longer than a soul could bear to contemplate.

Dr. Avery was just a casualty of Vera's tormented conscience, of the rage that she allowed to overshadow the guilt that threatened to destroy her. She barely had time to scream before Vera's fist shattered her jaw. As Vera beat her to death bare handed, her blood splattered and blended with the crimson tone of the car that was about to be stolen from her.

* * *

Bobby rolled into Garretson with less than a half hour to spare. He'd encountered engine trouble on his way into town. Not that he minded being late to this appointment. Sheriff Timothy was the one who called him, asked him to go an hour out of his way to help identify this body. He'd better be glad Bobby had shown up at all.

Still, Bobby couldn't help his morbid curiosity. He felt a little dread at the thought that he might see someone he knew on that table, but he was more resigned than anything. Hunting was a dangerous occupation. Everyone involved knew the risks. If you made it your business to chase the supernatural, you could die at any moment.

Garretson was a ridiculously small town and it didn't surprise him that the streets were deserted on a Sunday. Everyone and their mother was in church. He pulled up at the police station and started for the entrance, only to be stopped by a voice from behind him.

"Bobby! Bobby, hey!"

He recognized the Sheriff's voice, but something about it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In person, it sounded eerily similar to another voice he knew...

Bobby turned, preparing to greet Mark Timothy, only to receive the shock of his life.

Dean Winchester jogged toward him, breaking into a huge grin as he neared.

"God, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!"

He threw his arms around Bobby, who stiffened, still too shocked to react.

"Dean?" was all he could manage.

"I would have just called but... well, I tried that," Dean explained, pulling back. "You threatened to, uh..."

"I remember," Bobby said, eyes narrowing as the surprise started to wear off, anger taking its place. Whatever this thing was, it had made the biggest mistake of its life. Without warning, Bobby took a swing that Dean barely managed to dodge.

"Bobby, it's me!" Dean protested.

"Like hell it is!" Bobby shot back with narrowed eyes. He reached for his gun on impulse, but stopped himself, glancing at the police station that loomed over them both like a watchdog. He suddenly realized the reason for the pretense that had lured him here. Whatever this thing was, it was smart. It knew Bobby would be pissed when it met with him and it knew how to discourage him from killing it on sight. Garettson was too close to home for Bobby to be caught committing a murder on camera.

"Come on, Bobby, give me a chance!" Dean begged. "Ask me anything! I can prove it's me!"

"Do I look like I was born yesterday?!" Bobby demanded.

"Bobby-"

"I've never heard of a mind reading shapeshifter before, but I'm sure as hell not ruling it out as a possibility!"

"Are you kidding me?! That's insane! If you're open minded enough to consider something that loony, won't you at least entertain the possibility that I'm really me?!"

Bobby ignored the part of him that wanted to believe that this was actually Dean. That part of him was an idjit.

Dean read Bobby's expression and switched tactics.

"Alright. You think I'm a shifter... fine. You got any silver on you?"

"Are you- Let me get this straight!" Bobby seethed. "You impersonate someone who was like a son to me, lure me out here under false pretenses, and now you want me to _lend you a weapon?_ You must think I'm out of my damn mind!"

"Look, you've got a gun!" Dean pointed out. "If I come at you with the knife, it's self defense. I'm not a shifter. Let me prove it."

Bobby considered the proposal with narrowed eyes. He had to admit that it didn't seem like there was much risk in it for him, at least not on the surface.

"Bobby, please," Dean begged.

"In the car," Bobby growled, drawing his gun and leveling it at Dean. "Glove box. Move slow."

Dean did as Bobby said, emerging with a silver knife. He grimaced as he sliced his arm shallowly. Bobby's expression turned to one of disbelief. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't half the things he knew it could be. Suddenly, the part of him that was an idjit started to get the better of him.

" _Dean_?" he asked, putting his gun away as he approached him.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Dean said in exasperation.

Bobby pulled him into a crushing embrace, struggling to keep his wits about him through his shock and joy.

"How?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Dean admitted. "I mean, the Smiths told me-"

As he withdrew from the hug, Bobby interrupted him by tossing the contents of a water bottle in his face. Dean sputtered and spit unhappily, fixing Bobby with a look of consternation.

"Can't be too careful," Bobby explained, recapping the holy water and tossing it back into the car. "Smiths?"

"Alice's family."

"The ones she said tried to kill her? What the hell did you go to them for?"

"I didn't go to them, I woke up there."

"Woke up as in... came back to life?"

"Yeah."

"Well I gotta tell you son, you look great," Bobby said, looking Dean over again. "Last time I saw you... well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. Closed casket material."

Dean's stomach turned as the memory of his death assaulted him. His skin prickled with gooseflesh and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he remembered the way Lilith's hound tore into him.

"I bet."

"So what happened? The Smiths busted you out?"

"I wish I knew. I don't remember anything."

"Nothing at all?"

Dean swallowed hard, refusing to let himself slip into a memory.

"Not a thing," he lied. "The Smiths tried to feed me this crazy explanation, but it just... doesn't ring true."

"What was it?"

"Too crazy to repeat."

"Coming from you, that's a lot of crazy," Bobby said in amazement.

"Yeah, well those people are ten kinds of crazy," Dean said. "One of them's been tailing me since I left their compound... By the way, do you know how to throw a tracking spell?"

"Depends," Bobby replied. "A hex bag oughtta do the trick, but I wouldn't know what to put in it unless I knew what spell was being used. Do you know why they're following you?"

"If you believe them, it's to keep me safe," Dean rolled his eyes.

"And you're not buying that."

"No way. I don't know how I got out of hell or what stake they've got in it, but I trust them as far as I can throw them. I'm keeping my distance until I know more."

"Can't argue with that logic. You know, if it wasn't the Smiths that rescued you... well, there's only one other likely candidate."

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Sam."

"Has to be."

"Bobby, where is he?"

"Couldn't say," Bobby replied uneasily.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What do you mean, you couldn't say?!" he demanded. "Bobby, tell me you didn't let Sam go off on his own!"

"What did you want me to do, keep him in the yard on a leash?" Bobby asked sardonically. "I did everything I could! He was dead set on leaving!"

Dean was frustrated, but he refused to let himself take it out on Bobby.

"I know. Damn it, Sam, what did you do?" he groaned aloud. "We need to find him Bobby."

"Think we'll need to?" Bobby asked. "If it really was him that got you back topside, I'd expect him to show up looking for you before long. Why don't we head back to my place, put out a few lines, see if we can't turn up anything?"

"No, I can't go back with you," Dean shook his head.

"Why not? Because you've got that Smith following you?"

"No, I'm not worried about her. She seems to be letting me do what I want, for now anyway. No, there's actually another hunter I'm worried might find me."

Bobby raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's been a long three days," Dean sighed.

"Care to fill me in? If memory serves, there's a diner up the road with an omelette to die for."

"That sounds great," Dean nodded. "I'll follow you there."

Bobby pulled him in for one more hug before they set out.

"It's damn good to have you back, boy," he said.

"It's good to be back," Dean replied with a smile.

* * *

_1): Show me what is hidden here_


	6. Diary of a Basket Case

"So this demon we're tracking..."

"His name is Alastair," Ruby told Sam as they rolled into Defiance, Ohio. "He's a big shot. Hasn't been topside in nearly a millenia. He's much more powerful than anything you've taken on before."

"But you think I can handle him."

"By the time we find him, sure."

Ruby had two goals in their hunt for Alastair. His arrival on Earth provided a unique opportunity to pit Sam against someone who approached Lilith's caliber. She had been nourishing her protege with tastes of her blood for three days now and she could see the change in him already. Sam was invigorated, pulsing with demonic vitality. Even so, he was hesitant and filled with guilt. If he could banish, or better yet, destroy hell's master of torture, Ruby was certain it would be enough to convince him that his actions were justified.

The second goal was personal. Ruby had spent hundreds of years in hell and some of her worst memories were forged at Alastair's twisted hands. She couldn't help the savage desire to get even with her old tormentor.

"A thousand years is a long time," Sam said out of the blue, startling Ruby out of her thoughts of vengeance. "Why is he here now?"

Ruby had wondered as much herself.

"He finally saved up enough paid leave for a vacation," she snarked. "What do I look like, his travel agent? All I know is, he's here. What for doesn't really matter."

Sam frowned, but held his tongue. They had tracked the demon here following more than simple omens. A pastor and his wife had been murdered only days before, gruesomely. Ruby insisted the demon was the only case in town, but Sam's instincts told him this was something deeper than demonic shore leave.

"I think we should talk to the daughter," he said.

"What for? We already went over her statement. She wasn't there when her parents were killed, she doesn't know anything," Ruby insisted.

"I just…"

"Look, Sam, I know you think there's something bigger going on here, but I'm telling you, it's just a demon getting his kicks from torturing the locals to death."

"I just don't want any nasty surprises," Sam explained.

"Alastair's a nasty piece of work," Ruby said, her expression betraying her hatred. "I'd brace myself if I were you. This isn't going to be an easy hunt. I need you focused, ok?"

Sam didn't respond, but Ruby didn't give up.

"Sam, tell me you understand," Ruby pressed. "We're walking into a seriously dangerous situation. Distractions could get us both killed, or worse."

"I got it," Sam conceded.

"Great."

* * *

"... So, here I am."

Dean finished up his story and drained his glass of orange juice. Since his resurrection, food tasted different. Every bite was the best he'd ever eaten, every drink was bliss. He wondered if it would feel that way for the rest of his life or if it would eventually fade.

"Well, you sure haven't been bored since you got back," Bobby commented. "From the sound of it, your last three days were more exciting than my last month."

"You're telling me."

"So this Vera character. You're sure you never worked with her before?"

"Pretty sure. There was something about her I couldn't put my finger on though..."

"I'll say. Here's what I'd like to know; How'd she know you were alive again? Hell, how'd she know where to find you?"

"I didn't think to ask."

Bobby gave him a condescending look.

"Hey, I had a lot on my mind," Dean quickly defended himself.

"Right. So what are you going to do about Danny?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You don't have that many options."

"I know."

Dean paused, glancing absently out the diner window at the trunk where the shapeshifter was still imprisoned.

"What would you do, Bobby?" he asked.

"Me? Hard to say. I think I'd be less worried about the shapeshifter and more worried about the ride along it comes with."

"What do you mean?"

Bobby fixed him with a strange look.

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? The baby, you idjit. I'd be more hung up on what to do about the baby than the shapeshifting son of a bitch carrying it."

"Why? They're both monsters," Dean asked, puzzled.

"You don't know that."

Dean frowned and Bobby sighed.

"Of course you need me to spell it out for you... that child's half human, Dean. Now I'm no expert, but far as I figure, it's fifty-fifty whether it decides to take after you or Alice. I mean, Danny. I mean... hell, you know what I mean."

Dean was silent for a long time as the implications of Bobby's words sunk in.

"Fifty-fifty, huh?" Dean mused darkly, suddenly unable to tear his gaze away from the trunk.

"At the end of the day, I guess it's your call," Bobby said. He shrugged, but beneath the gesture, Dean could tell he was disturbed by the dilemma. "If you think Danny's really so dangerous that he needs to be put down ASAP, then that's that... or..."

"Or what? Keep him around til...?"

The proposal creeped Dean out so much he couldn't bring himself to give it voice right away.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bobby demanded.

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You want me to what, lock him up until he gives birth, take the baby and kill him after?"

"Well gee, when you put it like that it sounds a lot less compassionate than it's meant to be," Bobby admitted. "Look son, it's your choice, like I said. But you need to ask yourself where your lines are. And personally, I'd draw mine at killing a baby."

The unsaid hung heavy in the air between them, poisoning it with solemnity. Dean knew what Bobby really wanted to say. He would draw the line at killing his own baby. He just didn't want to come across as harsh.

For a brief instant, a life flashed before Dean's eyes. Something fluttered deep in his gut as he pictured himself holding a newborn. The strange sensation worked it's way up to his throat as he helplessly imagined raising a kid. Teaching them everything he knew, disciplining them, comforting them. He almost choked as the feeling reached his throat. Suddenly, he was filled with an all-consuming fear and something close to revulsion. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and swallowed his emotions.

"Bobby, I can't- I'm not a father," he managed.

"No one said you had to be," Bobby pointed out. "Just because you don't kill it doesn't mean you have to raise it."

Silence fell between them. Both of their appetites were gone and their food slowly grew cold while they both stared out the window, each lost in deep contemplation. The reverie was interrupted by the waitress asking if they were ready for the check.

"Take a night," Bobby told Dean as he left the tip. "Sleep on it. I'll leave you some silver in case you decide to... you know. But if you go the other way, give me a call. We'll come up with a way forward."

"Right. And you'll let me know if Sam turns up."

"Of course."

"Thanks Bobby."

* * *

Despite Ruby's insistence that the demon was the only case in town, Sam kept finding his attention drawn back to the girl.

Anna Milton was fifteen years old. She had been in and out of therapy her entire life and days before her parents murder, she had been committed to a psychiatric ward.

"Look, if we're gonna find this demon, shouldn't we start by figuring out why it went after the Miltons?" Sam asked.

Ruby heaved a massive sigh from across the motel room. She dropped a bowl and a candle back into her bag. Her first thought had been to suss out Alastair's location with a spell, but she'd been having no luck. He was too powerful to locate that way without running the risk of drawing his attention.

"I hate to say it, but you may be right," she admitted. "I don't know what you think the girl can tell us that we don't already know though. She wasn't even there when Alastair came after her parents."

"Right now she's the only lead we've got," Sam pointed out.

"Right. So how do you want to do this?"

Sam dug through his bag and pulled out a fake badge.

"Private investigators?" Ruby asked cynically. "You don't want to go with something with a little more clout?"

"Like what? There's no reason for the FBI to be looking into this one," Sam explained. "Local police already talked to the kid. This is the next best option."

Rub rolled her eyes and took the badge from him.

"Tell me this at least means we don't have to jump in a pair of cheap suits," she begged.

"You can wear whatever you want. Me, I'm sticking with the suit."

"Why, because you just can't get enough of the scratchy fabric?"

"Because psychologically speaking, suits make people feel like you're a figure of authority," Sam replied smartly. "It makes the job easier."

"Ok, professor," Ruby scoffed. "Psychologically speaking, smartasses get depressed in shotgun anyway, so I guess I better take that burden off your hands."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"You're driving, genius."

An hour later, Sam peered through a small glass observation pane in the door of Anna Milton's room at the psych ward. Inside the pristine white walls, the girl seemed to glow softly as she gazed absently out the barred window.

"Who did you say hired you again?" the presiding psychiatrist asked. She had seemed skeptical of their story from the minute she laid eyes on them and Sam was starting to wish he'd taken Ruby's advice and used badges with a little more clout, as she put it.

"The late Mr. Milton's brother," Sam repeated for her benefit.

"Look," the psychiatrist began. Sam's heart sank to his heels when he heard her tone. "Anna's mental state was precarious at best before this whole ordeal began... I was even reluctant to allow the police to interview her without a subpoena."

"Look, Dr. Pinsky," Sam appealed desperately. "I understand Anna's condition, but-"

"I'm not sure you do," Dr. Pinksy snapped at him. "Anna's schizophrenia subjected her to paranoid delusions. How do you think having both your parents brutally murdered affects a child in that state?"

Sam had no reply. Ruby looked impatient behind the doctor. She glanced surreptitiously up and down the hall, counting orderlies and shrinks making their rounds.

"Any information you need, you can get from the statement Anna gave the police," Dr. Pinsky said firmly. Sam knew that she wouldn't be swayed.

"Dr. Pinsky," Ruby finally spoke. She had let Sam do most of the talking since their arrival. "Do you mind if I have a word with you in private?"

"What about?"

"If I wanted my partner to know that, I wouldn't need the word to be in private," Ruby pointed out.

Pinsky pursed her lips, but nodded curtly and turned to lead Ruby down the hall. Before Sam could ask what Ruby was doing, she brushed past him. He felt her slip something into his pocket in passing.

"Text me when you're done. I'll meet you at the car," she told him under her breath. She followed Pinsky down the hall. Sam waited until they were out of sight to check his pocket. With a chuckle, he realized it was a keychain. He wondered if Ruby had stickier fingers than he did or if she had taken advantage of her demonic nature to secure the keys. Either way, he was grateful. Whatever could be said about Ruby's nature, they made a great team.

He waited until no one was looking and slipped quietly into Anna's room. She didn't seem to notice his entrance. She was scribbling intently on a notepad, head cocked to the side like she was listening to someone only she could hear. Sam thought she looked like she was taking dictation.

"Miss Milton?" Sam said. He spoke softly, trying not to startle her.

Giant green eyes snapped up to meet his. Her gaze reminded Sam of a deer caught in the headlights, frozen with panic that had yet to fully manifest in her expression. Sam waited for her to speak, but she said nothing and he realized she was waiting on him.

"I'm here about your parents," he began. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Oh."

Anna seemed to relax, sadness spreading over her delicate features as she glanced back down to her notepad.

"Thank you. I guess."

"Is it ok if I sit?" he asked, gesturing to a chair at a table in the corner of the room. Anna nodded minutely, writing something in her notes before refocusing her attention on him.

"I understand this is a very difficult time for you," Sam said softly. Anna didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she played with the id tag on her wrist. "I just have a few questions and then I'll be out of your hair."

"It's fine," Anna sighed. "I keep telling everyone, I'm _fine._ "

Sam doubted she was, but he kept it to himself. Kids dealt with trauma differently than adults. Sometimes the most comforting lie they could tell themselves was that nothing was wrong. He knew from personal experience that at Anna's age, if you told yourself you were fine for long enough, it started to feel true.

"Are you another cop?" she asked.

"Something like that."

"So what is it you want to know? I already told you guys everything. No one wanted to hurt the Miltons. They were both good people. There was no good reason for them to die like that."

The way she phrased it struck Sam as off.

"'The Miltons'?" he asked.

"My parents."

Sam was starting to get the feeling that Anna wasn't as torn up about her parents deaths as she should be. Still, he hesitated to read into it. It could just be a coping mechanism.

"Right. No, I, uh... I read your statement. I didn't come here to go over any of that again."

"Then what did you come here for?"

Anna's words took on a slightly sharp tone, almost like impatience. Like she was busy and Sam was annoying her by keeping her from what she really wanted to be doing.

"I just wanted to ask if anything strange happened in the weeks leading up to..."

Sam trailed off. He didn't know how many times he could bring up what had happened before Anna fell to pieces over it.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You came _here_..."

She gestured around the pristine white room.

"... To ask _me_..."

She pointed to herself, clad entirely in white cotton and barefoot on the bed.

"... If 'anything strange happened'? What kind of detective are you anyway?"

She sounded incredibly amused.

"An open-minded one," Sam replied.

"Right."

Anna grew quiet for a long moment, once again cocking her head to the side like she was listening to a conversation Sam had been excluded from. She scrawled a quick note in her pad and Sam couldn't keep his eyes from following her pencil.

"What is that you're writing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Anna sighed. "Diary of a basket case, I guess."

"Is it private?" Sam pressed.

"Not at all. See, I'm in here 'cause I started hearing voices. Dr. Pinsky thought it would help her help me if I wrote down what I hear so she can psychoanalyze my delusions in our sessions."

She examined Sam's expression. To his surprise, she offered him her notepad.

"Go on. I can see you're curious. What's one more set of eyes?"

Unable to deny that she was right, Sam accepted the notepad and started leafing through it. Immediately, he pegged it as mostly gibberish.

"When did the voices start?" he asked. He couldn't discount the possibility that Anna's voices were part of the case, even if her writing did seem wacky.

 _The stars require little curation, Thadeus,_ read one line. _The dates outside Madina aren't what they used to be,_ read another.

"Four days ago," Anna answered.

 _Do you suppose the fish ever get jealous of their land-dwelling cousins?_ Sam read. He skipped a few pages and saw something that captured his attention.

_This generation of hunters have so little faith._

"Anna, what does this mean?" he asked, flipping the notepad and pointing out the line. She shrugged.

"I don't know what any of it means," she said. "I just hear it."

"You don't have any idea where it's coming from?" Sam asked, scrutinizing the scribbling with renewed interest. The phrases were disjointed. They sounded like bits and pieces from conversations, sentences taken out of context.

"What?" Anna asked, confused.

"The voices. Do you have any idea what they could be?"

_I feel that we should be watching less and intervening more. With each passing day, the number of demons crawling their way out of hell increases._

"No one... no one's ever asked me that before," she said, gaping at him in disbelief. "Do you... do you not think I'm just crazy?"

"I mean... Look, I'm no psychiatrist," Sam admitted. "But you seem awfully sane for a crazy person. You know? And I've seen some pretty insane stuff in my life. Enough to make me think there might be more going on here than a sudden onset of schizophrenia."

"Either that or you're crazier than I am," Anna said, drawing back into herself nervously.

"Well I... I..."

Sam stopped, doing a double take as his eyes slid over a phrase.

_I do not understand why Winchester is still able to see me._

"Anna... what's this?" he asked, showing her the pad again.

"I told you, I don't-"

Anna cut off when she realized which line he was pointing to.

"Oh, that... I don't know, exactly, but..."

"But?"

"Well, I hear that name a lot," she explained. "More than anything else."

"Winchester?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, it was the first thing I ever heard."

"What did you hear? Do you remember?"

"Clear as a bell. Don't know how I could ever forget. 'Dean Winchester is saved'."

Sam's shock must have shown on his face. Anna grew jumpier, edging away from him. He realized he was gripping the notepad so hard his hand was shaking.

"What is it?" Anna asked, fear tinging her words.

"What else have you heard about Dean Winchester?" Sam demanded, a little louder than he intended.

"Nothing! I mean, nothing that makes any sense!" Anna said, cringing away from him further. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm sorry!" Sam said quickly, realizing he had spooked her. "I'm sorry, I just-"

His heart pounded while his mind raced, struggling to understand what Anna Milton's voices could possibly have to do with his brother. There was no way in hell this was a coincidence. Dean's name alone was too specific and the phrase Anna claimed to have heard...

Sam had to know more.

"Anna, how would you like to get out of here?" he asked.

* * *

Bobby pulled into his driveway just in time to find a stranger knocking at his door. It was a woman with bob-cut black hair and piercing blue eyes. She turned when she heard his engine and met him halfway through the yard.

"Mr. Singer?"

"The one and only," Bobby replied, remembering Dean's description of the hunter that might be looking for him. Vera with no known last name. Dark hair, dark clothes, bright eyes. This woman certainly fit the description. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for someone. A friend of yours. Actually... what I have to say may come as a shock to you. Do you have somewhere we could sit?"

Bobby had no doubt she was looking for Dean. He thought quickly, trying to decide how best to play the situation.

"Sure," he said before the pause could become awkward. "You take a beer, miss...?"

"Call me Kim," she replied. "I sure as hell won't turn one down."

She followed him into the house.

"So who is it you're looking for, Kim?" Bobby asked.

"An old hunting buddy of mine," 'Kim' replied. At this point, Bobby was assuming that this was actually Vera. "Sam Winchester."

Her response took him by surprise, but he didn't let it show.

"You don't say. Well, that makes two of us," Bobby said as he opened his fridge and pulled out a pair of beers. "I haven't heard from the kid in months."

"Me neither. It's starting to worry me, honestly," Vera replied.

"You two close?"

"We have a long history. I was closer with his brother, actually. Which brings me to the news I wanted to share with you."

"Well don't keep me in suspense."

"You might wanna take a seat," Vera suggested.

They both sat at Bobby's kitchen table and cracked open their beers. Before Vera could tell Bobby this news that she thought he needed to sit down for, she choked on her beer.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, unable to help herself.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at her.

"Didn't take you for a beer snob," he noted with interest.

"I'm not," she assured him, examining the brew. "I guess it's just been too long since I had one."

She took another experimental sip, only to grimace and set the beer aside.

"Maybe long enough that I've lost the taste for it," she said.

"Uh-huh."

Bobby sipped his beer thoughtfully. Most everything in his kitchen was laced with holy water. A precaution he'd learned from his old mentor Rufus Turner. For a second, he wondered if Vera was something less than human, but quickly dismissed the thought. If she were a demon, she would have damn near jumped through the roof, not choked a little and shrugged it off.

"So, did you have me sit in case I fell asleep waiting for you to tell me this news of yours?" Bobby joked, eliciting a small smile from Vera.

"That wasn't the plan. No, uh… actually, it's about Dean Winchester. He's back."

Vera watched Bobby's face closely while he took a moment to absorb the news.

"But you already knew that," she realized.

Bobby considered lying to her, but decided against it. Vera was sharp enough that she would see through an outright lie. Instead, he opted to tell a half-truth.

"I had my suspicions," he admitted. "Someone called me a few days ago claiming to be Dean… I didn't believe them at the time, but… well, all signs point to it having been more than a prank."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

"No."

Vera was looking distinctly green around the gills.

"You ok there?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" Vera asked.

"Not at all. Down the hall, second door on the left," Bobby replied.

"Appreciate it."

As soon as Vera was out of earshot, Bobby wandered out the kitchen door and called Dean. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

"Dean, call me later. Someone's here looking for you and Sam. I'm pretty sure it's that hunter you say you ditched in Valley Springs. You were right too, there's something off about her. I just can't quite put my finger on what."

Bobby hung up quickly and retook his place at the table, grateful to find that Vera wasn't yet back from the washroom.

* * *

Vera stumbled as soon as she was out of Bobby's sight. She rushed to the bathroom, gagging on the beer that was disagreeing with her so violently. She barely made it in time, retching as quietly as possible into Bobby Singer's toilet. Her vomit was streaked with black and the room was filled with a rotten stench that she knew only too well from her experience as a hunter.

"What the…"

She gasped for breath, rinsing her mouth out at the sink in an attempt to remove the taste of sulphur. She took one more look at the mess in the toilet, highly disturbed by the spots of black slime that sat oil-like on the surface of the water.

Rattled, she flushed away the evidence, though of what, she couldn't say. She straightened, fixed her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair before heading back into the kitchen. Bobby was waiting for her patiently, seemingly unaware of her distress.

"I won't keep you long," Vera said, pulling a card out of her jacket. She handed it to Bobby. "Could you call me if you hear anything from the Winchesters? I just want to know they're ok, you know?"

"Sure," Bobby said, carefully stoic as he walked her to the door. Still, there was one more thing he couldn't help but ask. "You know, you just seem so darn familiar, Kim. Have we crossed paths before?"

"Don't think so," Vera lied. "I get that a lot though. Guess I've just got one of those faces."

"Right. Well be careful out there."

She smiled as she got in her car. The bright, shiny red struck Bobby as being a bit too ostentatious for a hunter.

"Not in this lifetime," she replied. "But thanks for the sentiment."


	7. Manipulation

'Vera' was hitting dead end after dead end in her quest to deliver Dean's soul to the demons who had her on a leash. She thought if she got something that looked like Alice, his lover, maybe he would trade his soul for her life. When the shapeshifter slipped through her fingers, her thoughts turned to his brother. Dean had sold his soul for Sam before. Maybe he would do it again.

That didn't pan out either. Sam was nowhere to be found. She might have been impressed with how thoroughly he had disappeared if it wasn't such a pain in her ass at the moment.

She had one last idea. It was a long shot, but after so many disappointments, she was ready to try a hail Mary.

In a dilapidated, long disused homeless shelter in Sioux Falls, she drew the rites to summon someone who, once upon a time, owed her a favor. Given the circumstances, she didn't know if he would honor it. Hell, she didn't even know if he would show up. She didn't know if her location of choice counted as an abandoned sanctuary, but Bobby Singer's home town must have been big on religion because all their churches were in perfect working order.

To her relief, a man appeared before her after she recited the incantation to call him. He seemed startled for a moment, then heaved a weary sigh.

"Debería siquiera preguntar?" Huehuecoyotl said wistfully. "How many people know this damn ritual anyway? I swear, I've been summoned more times this last year than in the five hundred preceding it."

"Don't worry, the ritual hasn't been circulating," she assured him. "Same summoner, different face."

"I love a riddle as much as the next guy chica, but if you got yanked away from date night as much as I do, you wouldn't be in the mood for them either," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown.

"Huey, it's me."

He studied her for a moment, toeing the line separating them and scrutinizing her eyes. Unblinking and blue, they held his gaze.

"I feel like I know you, but I can't place you," he admitted. "I'd ask if we had a fling, but I never forget a beautiful woman."

"I'll give you a hint. I'm here for that last favor you owe me."

He squinted at her cynically.

"Alice?"

"The one and only."

"Can't be," Huey said in disbelief. "Alice has the most unmistakable eyes in the world. Those aren't them."

"Alice has been through a hell of a lot since the last time you saw her," she shot back. "Me. _I've_ been through a hell of a lot. Look, are you going to help me or not?"

"If you're Alice, tell me something only Alice would know," Huey demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This coming from a guy I met once?" she scowled. "What do you even know about me that I could tell you?"

"We met twice," Huey corrected her. "Granted, you wouldn't remember the first time. Fine, chica, answer me this; Who was older, Hunahpue or Xbalanque?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"You tell me."

"They were twins."

"Common knowledge," Huey said dismissively.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her scowl deepening.

"I don't have time for games," she told him. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Huehuecoyotl looked around unhappily. The warding around the circle that contained him was expertly done. Flawless. Alice or not, the only way he was getting out was if she let him go.

"It would seem I don't have a choice," he grumbled. "What is it you want?"

"A photoshoot," she replied.

* * *

Dean stayed up late into the night. He finally allowed himself to get the drink he'd been craving since Vera grabbed him to help her hunt 'Alice'. Currently, 'Alice' was still in the trunk. He still didn't know what he was going to about her. Him. The whole situation was giving him a hell of a headache.

He wasted at least an hour calling all of Sam's old numbers and leaving messages, to no avail. Hours passed before he accepted that Sam wasn't going to call him back. All he could do was wait and hope that Sam reached out to Bobby or showed up at his place.

Dean couldn't stop himself from peeking out his window every few minutes as the night wore on. Kaydie was nowhere to be seen, but Dean got the feeling that he hadn't lost her. Not yet, anyway. He had gotten Bobby's message about Vera's visit as well. He felt like half the world was after him for one reason or another.

At three in the morning, Dean finally came to a decision about Danny. He finished his last drink, the alcohol numbing him just enough that he wouldn't feel guilty about what he was about to do until the next morning. He got in his stolen car and drove out past the city limits. Earlier, Danny had protested loudly whenever they hit a bump in the road. Now he was silent. Maybe he could feel what was coming. Sense that his time was quickly nearing.

Dean pulled off the highway into a wooded area. This far from any large cities, the night was pitch black. Overhead, the sky was full of stars. Dean had seen this sky many times before, having spent so many years spent on the road away from the light pollution that most people were stuck in their entire lives. It never got any less beautiful and after hell, it took Dean's breath away. He took a moment to stop and appreciate it. August was just starting to fade into September and a chill had started to creep into the air.

Dean spent nearly ten minutes timelessly reveling in being alive.

Finally, he forced himself to focus on the reason why he'd come all the way out here. He opened the trunk to find Danny curled up into a ball inside. The shapeshifter's eyes were closed, though whether he was sleeping or playing possum, Dean couldn't say. Either way, it made his job easier.

Dean unsheathed a silver knife and prepared to strike.

Before he could, his text notification sounded, loud as thunder in the dark, secluded woods. Danny's eyes snapped open, filling with panic when he saw Dean standing over him, ready to kill him. Dean hesitated, drunk enough to be torn between checking his phone and killing Danny.

Another notification rang out into the night.

"Hold that thought, ok?" Dean told Danny, though nothing had been said. He slammed the trunk shut and opened his phone. What he saw made his blood run cold. He forgot all about Danny as he processed what he was seeing.

An unknown number had just sent him a picture of Sam, bound and gagged on the ground. The second message was an address. As Dean watched, another text came through.

'Come unarmed and alone.'

* * *

"You want me to what?" Ruby demanded from the passenger side of the Impala.

"I want you to go back in there and bust Anna out," Sam repeated himself, more bluntly this time. He hadn't expected Ruby to be happy about the change in plans. She was rarely pleased with his constant improvisation. Still, he hadn't expected her to resist this proposal so fiercely.

"What the hell does busting a delusional teenager out of a psych ward have to do with finding Alastair?" Ruby scowled. "This is why I didn't want you to waste your time talking to her. You and your damn bleeding heart! I knew you wouldn't be able to leave well enough alone! This is a demon hunt, Sam, not a-"

"This has nothing to do with my 'bleeding heart'!" Sam snapped, losing his temper. He held his tongue around her a lot, putting up with the condescension she subjected him to out of patience. He knew her bad attitude was a habit it would take her a long time to break, if she ever could. Now he was at the end of his rope. "I think there's more going on here than you know, Ruby! I think Anna might be the real reason Alastair is here."

That captured Ruby's attention.

"How? Why?"

"The voice's she's hearing? They're saying some interesting things."

"Like what?"

"Why don't you have her tell you herself? After we get her the hell out of dodge," Sam said sharply.

"Why are you keeping me in the dark, Sam?" Ruby asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What did she hear that made you so keen to engineer her jailbreak?"

Sam opened his mouth to tell her what Anna heard about his brother, but something stopped him. The ghost of an instinct, a hint of unease that he had buried months ago when he started working with Ruby. He was willing to do anything to save Dean, but that didn't mean he had to like the things she asked him to do. Especially when so many of those things made so little sense and Ruby was so hesitant to explain herself to him.

"She keeps notes about what she hears," Sam said instead. "I read them. Ruby, she's hearing things about hunters. About demons. It sounded real."

Ruby considered his words for a while, examining him with an indecipherable expression. Finally, she heaved a massive sigh and threw her hands up in defeat.

"Fine. But your lazy attempt to have me do all the dirty work here isn't going to fly," she informed him.

"I'm not being lazy," Sam protested. "Your mojo is the fastest, cleanest way to do this."

"As convenient as it would be for me to zap in, grab the girl and zap back out, it's too risky," Ruby said. "A move like that could put us on Alastair's radar. No, we need to come up with a real plan."

Sam frowned heavily, gazing at the psychiatric ward over the steering wheel. It wasn't the highest security place he'd seen, but it was secure enough that this was going to pose a challenge.

"This is going to be seriously tricky," he mused aloud. "This place is full of cameras... if we're not careful we could end up on more than Alastair's radar."

"Don't tell me you're worried about the human authorities," Ruby scoffed.

"Don't underestimate how much of a pain in the ass regular human police can be," Sam shot back. "The FBI made me and Dean's lives hard as hell for a good year there... I'm sure you remember."

"Lightweight stuff. But it's your party," Ruby said. "We'll do it however you want."

Sam spotted Dr. Pinsky leaving for the day and raised his eyebrows. Ruby didn't miss the change in his expression.

"What?"

"I have an idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Ruby groaned. "Spit it out Winchester."

"What if we didn't bust Anna out? What if Dr. Pinsky released her?"

"I don't follow," Ruby frowned.

Sam just grinned.

* * *

The address Dean had received was in Sioux Falls, practically in Bobby's backyard.

"Boy, it's a damn fool idea to walk into this alone," Bobby growled. Dean had stopped by his place to fill him in and drop off Danny. He could have just killed the shapeshifter, but deep down, he still wasn't sure that was what he really wanted to do and this turn of events offered the perfect excuse to postpone his execution.

"I don't have a choice," Dean told him. "I can't risk getting Sam hurt."

"That risk is there no matter what you do," Bobby pointed out. "We don't know who has Sam or what the hell it is they want."

"Actually, I'm willing to bet my dad's car it's Vera," Dean countered. "I mean, think about it Bobby. She shows up here asking about him and the next thing you know, I'm getting a list of hostage demands? It doesn't get fishier than that."

"Ok, but that doesn't answer the question of what on god's green earth she wants from you two," Bobby said.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! Every scrap of information we can think of matters. It's the difference between going into this blind and having some clue about what the outcome might be!"

"Yeah, well this is all the information we have," Dean sighed. "It's gonna have to do."

"I don't like it."

"Do you see me jumping for joy? Since when does anything happen to this family that we like?"

Bobby sighed heavily, but was forced to agree.

"So you want me to what, babysit Danny while you waltz into the belly of the beast?"

"That, and come looking for me if you don't hear from me by tonight," Dean explained.

"Fine. But I'm not walking into this alone like your dumb ass. If I don't hear from you in an hour, I'm calling in backup."

"Backup? Who's backup?"

"Whoever I can rustle up on an afternoon's notice."

"Thanks Bobby."

"I'm dependable, aren't I?"

"Always."

"Yeah, and taken for granted too. So, where's the shapeshifter?"

"Trunk. I'll get him. Where are you gonna keep him til I get back?"

"I've got a panic room in the basement that'll hold him just fine," Bobby replied.

Dean left Danny in Bobby's capable hands and made his way to the address. An old, abandoned homeless shelter just outside Sioux Falls downtown area. Night was beginning to lose its potency, the sky turning dull, dark grey as the sun prepared to make its appearance. Before he left the car, Dean checked his weapons. He had a knife tucked into pocket and two in his socks. He had a gun in his jacket and a lifetime of training that he couldn't leave behind if he tried.

Dean was fine with showing up alone. He was damned if he was showing up unarmed.

He entered the shelter slowly, watching carefully for any signs of activity. The place seemed untouched, the counter and chairs in the lobby coated in years worth of dust and cobwebs. The windows were covered up and as the sun rose outside, slivers of golden light found their way through the cracks in the old boards. Dean walked quietly, peeking around corners as he checked room after room. They were all empty. Silence surrounded him, thick enough to cut with a knife. Dean's senses were alive with the hunt, heartbeat steady from years of experience even as the back of his neck tingled and his hand itched with the desire to have a grip on his firearm. He forced himself to leave it hidden in his jacket and pressed forward.

A sound caught his attention. It was so soft as to be nearly undetectable, but it was enough to draw Dean to a door. He got close, listening intently. It sounded like tense, labored breathing. His pulse picked up as he turned the handle quickly, throwing the door open.

Inside, Sam lay on the ground, bound just as he had been in the pictures Dean had received. It was his breathing that had drawn Dean to the room.

"Sam!"

Sam looked up, eyes widening when they met Dean's. Dean rushed to his side, pulling the knife out of his pocket as he prepared to free Sam.

"God damn it's good to see you!" he said, unable to help himself. "I mean, circumstances notwithstanding and all."

"I thought I said unarmed," came a familiar voice from the doorway, interrupting Dean's rescue attempt. He rose quickly, leaving the knife on the ground for Sam to use and drawing his gun. He turned to level it at Vera, who already had a gun pointed at him.

"I would have humored you, really. It's just... you know, my arms are stuck on pretty good," Dean joked.

Vera laughed.

"Good one. Now put the gun down before I shoot your brother."

Dean moved to stand between her and Sam.

"Over my dead body."

"Nice. You're still as protective of him as ever. That's good. John would be proud of you, keeping your promise at any cost."

"What the hell do you know about my Dad?" Dean demanded.

"Just what you told me," Vera replied. "Now put the gun down so we can talk."

"Talk? That's all you wanna do? What the hell's wrong with a phone call?"

"Bad wording. I meant negotiate."

"Over what?"

"Sam's life."

She took a step toward him.

"Stay back!" he barked.

"Or what? You'll shoot?"

"Damn straight."

"Go on then."

She advanced on him with a taunting smile.

"Give it your best shot."

Dean knew something was wrong, but she was too close and he had no choice. He shot her in the shoulder. She stumbled from the force and clutched the wound, but recovered quickly and kept coming.

"Come on, Dean, stop before you hurt someone," she said.

Dean shot her in the leg and though she stumbled again, she still didn't stop or react with pain. She was practically on top of him now. Out of options, he emptied his clip into her chest. She stumbled back and in the silence that followed his barrage, coughed up a mouthful of blood. Still, she straightened like he'd hit her with something with all the lethality of a pillow at a slumber party.

With a sinking feeling, Dean realized Vera wasn't human. He bent to pull a silver knife from his sock, but she kicked him before he could straighten. The force of the blow sent him flying back. She advanced on him again, standing over him and preparing to kick him, but Dean knocked her legs out from under her before she could strike. He lashed out with the knife, stabbing her in the gut. She groaned, but looked little more than annoyed.

"And I thought Vera was gonna make it out of this alive," she said, sounding disappointed. She grabbed Dean by the jacket, pulling him close enough that he could smell the blood on her breath.

"What the hell are you?" he asked.

"You haven't guessed yet?" she asked, sounding surprised. She headbutted him with a grunt and his vision blurred from the force of the hit. She let him fall back on the dirty linoleum and rose, straightening her shredded shirt. "That's okay. That's probably best, actually."

Before Dean could demand that she tell him, her foot came down on his face and he was plunged into the senseless black depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

"I don't know how I let you talk me into this," Ruby grumbled. She settled into the motel room chair, glowering while Sam tied her down.

"With common sense," Sam replied as he finished. Ruby strained against the ropes, surprising Sam with her ferocity. "Whoa there tiger. She's not going to be as strong as you."

"Desperation makes people strong," Ruby noted. "But these'll do. You know what your part of this plan is?"

Sam held up a bandana and a knife.

"Let you out, gag Allison, keep an eye on her til you get back," he recited.

"Right. If I come back and my host is gone, I'll skin you," she threatened. "Assuming Allison doesn't do it first for kicks."

Sam snorted.

"You're being dramatic," he accused. "She can't be that bad."

"Are you kidding me? You've met her sister," Ruby pointed out. "If you think Alice is bad, try to imagine what her witchy big sister is like."

"Ok, I get the picture. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"And you know your part of the plan?"

"Bitch, I am the plan," Ruby said sassily, tossing her hair with a grin.

"Ruby, seriously."

"Ugh. Possess Dr. Pinsky, sign Anna out, bring her here, ditch the doc and make sure she doesn't remember anything. Not exactly rocket science."

"Don't knock simplicity," Sam warned her. "It's the mother of success."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Let's get this over with."

Sam pulled her shirt aside to reveal the binding link on her chest, still not fully healed. With a deep breath, he pressed the knife to Ruby's pale flesh, slicing through the sigil that prevented her from leaving or being forced from Allison Smith's body. Ruby met his eyes one last time, then smoked out of her host. Sam couldn't help shuddering as he watched the pillar of pure black wind and snake its way through the room, slipping out through the crack under the door and leaving behind the distinct stench of sulphur.

Sam turned his gaze back to Ruby's body. Allison was slumped over, unconscious for the moment and slowly bleeding from the cut on her chest. Sam quickly gagged her with the bandana, securing it tightly behind her head before pressing a rag to the wound he had just dealt her. He held it there to stop the bleeding, examining the other broken binding seals while he waited. The oldest of them was a scar so faded by time that it was nearly gone. Ruby had taken incredibly pains to keep this body for such a long time. Sam recalled the vague explanation she had given him when he asked her why. He wondered how true it really was. He felt like sometimes, Ruby just told him things to ease his conscience. White lies, but lies nonetheless.

Sam brought his attention back to the freshly broken seal, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped. He was startled when his eyes met Allison's, now open, through a thin curtain of blonde hair. She watched him raptly and her gaze grabbed his and held it captive. The hazel eyes that he knew as Ruby's seemed brand new. The dark green flecked with golden brown was familiar, but the light behind them now was completely alien.

Sam prepared himself for Allison to start struggling, but she never did. Allison didn't try to move or speak. She just held Sam's gaze for what felt like an eternity, unblinking. It took him a long time to figure out what her gaze was conveying. At first, he thought it was devoid of emotion. After a while, he realized it was just the opposite. There were so many different emotions in Allison's eyes that it was impossible to pick out any one specifically.

At last, Sam forced himself to look away. He dabbed the cut gently, realizing that it had finally stopped bleeding. He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling the sudden, intense urge to apologize as he fixed Allison's shirt. He resisted, remembering Ruby's dire warnings that he not speak with her host.

_"She's the most manipulative person on the face of the planet. Take it from someone who got majorly screwed over by her once upon a time... you do NOT want to let Allison Smith get in your head."_

Sam walked away from Allison, feeling her eyes on him as he sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her in his line of sight even as he avoided looking at her directly. Her gaze didn't falter as he turned on the TV and started switching through channels in search of something to watch.

A long time passed before she made any sound. When she did, it was soft, just the beginnings of a small cough. Just enough to make Sam look at her. She caught his gaze and her eyes appealed to him. They darted past him and he followed her gaze to the sink.

Sam considered ignoring her, but that didn't sit right with him.

"Thirsty?" he asked instead.

Allison nodded slowly. Sam pursed his lips, but got up to get her a cup of water despite Ruby's warnings to keep the bandana in Allison's mouth. How persuasive could she be? Surely Sam could handle whatever she threw at him.

She held his eyes again and this time he didn't look away as he untied the bandana and put the plastic cup to her lips. She drained it, still unblinking.

"Thanks," she said when she was finished.

Sam nodded and prepared to retie the bandana.

"Wait."

He paused, humoring her.

"Is that really necessary?"

Sam didn't respond. He went to secure the bandana again, but she turned her face away from him.

"Come on. This is the first time I haven't been a puppet in over fifteen years. I won't talk, just... can't you just let me breathe free? Just for a little while."

Her expression was stoic, but her voice sounded like it was about to break. Sam tried to remind himself of Ruby's warnings, but he was too full of pity for Allison. He nodded silently and retook his place on the bed.

An hour went by and Allison was as good as her word. She sat silently, watching TV with Sam and occasionally rolling her shoulders or stretching in the ropes that bound her. Sam got the feeling that she was less testing the ropes and more just genuinely enjoying the autonomy, limited as it was. He was filled with shame, despite himself. A small voice in the back of his head told him that once, it had been his job to save people like Allison. Not stand guard to keep them from escaping until their demon could come back and repossess them.

Sam stifled that voice. He dismissed it as the bleeding heart that Ruby so often accused him of harboring.

Finally, someone knocked on the door. Sam jumped up to answer it, peering through the peephole to see Anna and Dr. Pinsky outside. Anna looked terrified. Sam opened the door and Dr. Pinsky pulled Anna roughly into the room.

"You know Sam, I think you might be right," Ruby said with Pinsky's voice.

"What happened?" Sam demanded. "Anna, are you ok?"

Anna was close to hysteria and unable to answer him.

"Don't bother, she's freaking out," Ruby told him. "She can see my real face."

"You mean... she knows you're a demon?"

"Yeah. Alastair might be here for her after all. The only question is, why?"

Ruby shot Anna a look of distaste.

"See if you can get her to calm down, she's starting to get on my nerves."

"I'll try to talk to her. You go ditch Pinsky."

Ruby nodded and turned to head out, before she noticed Allison. Her eyes narrowed.

"Sam, why isn't she gagged?" she demanded.

"Relax, I just gave her a drink," Sam explained. It was close enough to the truth.

Ruby scowled, but left well enough alone.

"I'll be back soon. Keep a close eye on these two. Both of them are trouble."

She took off again, leaving Sam to comfort Anna. Once Ruby was gone, she started to calm down a little.

"Have a seat," Sam told her gently. "Do you want some water?"

Anna shook her head, drawing her knees up to her chest and chewing her nails in jittery silence.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

Anna met his eyes. Her own were wide, wet and frightened.

"What do you want?" she asked shakily. "Why did you take me?"

"I just want to keep you safe," Sam assured her. "Your parents murder... a demon did it. I think he's coming for you next."

Anna stared at him for a long time, looking torn. When she finally spoke, she barely got the words out.

"I've lost it!" she sobbed. "I've completely lost it! Oh my God, I'm crazy!"

"No, no, you're not- Anna, you're not crazy, I promise," Sam told her. His words did nothing to help.

"Hey."

Allison's voice came from behind Sam, but she wasn't talking to him.

"Anna. Look at me."

Anna complied, noticing Allison for the first time. Her brow knit in confusion and added horror.

"What-what-"

"It's ok. Take a deep breath. Don't ask questions right now, just breathe."

Sam took a step back, watching as Allison talked Anna down from the edge of a panic attack.

"That's right. In deep, all the way out. Good."

Slowly, Anna calmed. It was a bizarre scene to say the least. Allison was the most collected person in the room, despite the fact that she was tied hand and foot to a chair.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Anna begged, no longer crying.

Allison looked to Sam.

"Well? Are you gonna tell her or not?" she prompted.

"I... uh... well..."

Sam struggled for a moment, before finally giving up.

"It's complicated," he told Anna. "Just... really complicated and-"

"Everything's going to be alright," Allison cut in. "I know this looks bad, but try to look at the bright side. You're out of the loony bin, right?"

"I belong there," Anna said sadly. "This is nuts."

"You're half right. It's the situation that's nuts, not you. Trust me."

"Why?"

"Because I've been where you are. I've been caught in the middle of absolute insanity with no idea which way was up or what was going to happen to me. Believe it or not, I made it out just fine."

Anna's look of complete disbelief said it all. Allison read her expression and chuckled.

"Granted, that was a long time ago. I'm in a whole other mess now. That's not important. What I'm trying to hit at is that you're going to be okay. This guy-"

She nodded to Sam, surprising him.

"-he's good people. He'll take good care of you."

Anna's eyes darted between Sam and Allison, full of uncertainty.

"But... I don't... what about you? If he's such a good guy, what's the deal with you?"

"It's complicated," Allison echoed Sam. "And... not really his fault."

She met Sam's eyes for what she said next.

"He's just... doing the best he can."

The room fell silent after that. Sam couldn't stop thinking about what Allison had said. Of all the things he expected from her, he hadn't expected that.

Either Allison was a better manipulator than Ruby had prepared him to deal with, or something wasn't right.


	8. Negotiation

When Dean came to, he found that Vera had moved him. He was now in what had once been a kitchen area, cuffed to the pipes under a commercial sink. He could feel that all his knives had been confiscated, including the ones in his socks. Vera had been thorough when she searched him.

Sam was on the floor ten feet from him. Vera sat on a stainless steel countertop, swinging her feet while she gazed at her phone. Her eyes were drawn by Dean's slight movement.

"Finally," she groaned, jumping off the counter and tucking her phone into her pants pocket. "I was just about to start smacking you."

"What the hell is this?" Dean demanded angrily, straightening until he bumped his head on the sink above him.

"A negotiation, like I said. You have something I want. I have something you want."

She nudged Sam with her foot. He didn't move, just watched her from the concrete floor with a blank expression. That struck Dean as terribly off. He expected his brother to put up more of a fight. He reasoned that Vera must have drugged Sam or something.

"What do you want so damn bad that you skipped the part where you ask nicely?" Dean growled.

"Nothing much."

She pulled a roll of parchment out of her pocket.

"Just your John Hancock on the dotted line."

Dean squinted at the document. It was composed of red ink scratched onto paper yellowed with time and ragged around the edges. Vera had unrolled only a tiny part of it. Dean could tell from the size of the segments that were still rolled up that the document was incredibly long. He could make out one other detail from this distance; the red writing was all latin.

Dean's stomach turned as he realized what it was she had in her hand. What she really was.

"You're a demon," he accused.

"Not a bad guess. But no."

"Then what the hell do you want with my soul?"

She thought about lying or keeping the information from him, but decided against it.

"I've got a deal. Your soul for mine."

Dean's confusion was apparent on his face.

"So you see, this is nothing personal," she explained. "As someone who's done their fair share of time in the pit, I'm sure you get it. You of all people should understand the lengths people like us are willing to go to if it means we can stay topside."

She crouched at his side and produced a pen.

"So why don't you make this easy on all of us," she suggested. "Sign the paper. Sam walks. This doesn't need to be messy."

Dean glanced at Sam, still prone on the ground. He lay slug-like, watching them with an expression that now seemed… mildly interested? Something was wrong, but Dean still couldn't figure out what it was. At the moment, he didn't have time to worry about it.

He met her gaze and set his jaw.

"If you've really been down there, you know I can't do that," he told her. Aspects of this situation were starting to feel awfully familiar to him. Suspicion started to curl deep in his gut about who Vera really was. He studied her deep blue eyes, torn. Sure, there was something about them that made him feel like he'd seen them before, but he knew he never had. Vera reminded him of someone, but… it couldn't be.

After all, Alice Smith had the most unmistakable eyes in the world. No matter how many bodies she jumped, her eyes always stayed with her, creepy as ever. These eyes weren't hers. This couldn't be Alice.

"Then I have to do what I have to do," she said, tone tinged with regret.

"Look, this isn't the only way," Dean said, mostly playing for time at this point. He didn't know how long he had been out, but maybe it was long enough that Bobby would show up soon. "I can help you. You don't have to do this."

"Help me? You couldn't even save your own sorry skin from hell. What do you think you're going to be able to do for me?"

"I know things now that I didn't back then," Dean bluffed.

"Stalling isn't going to help you," she informed him. "Either sign or don't. But whatever you're gonna do, get on with it and stop wasting my time."

Dean got a strong sense of deja vu from her words. It was more than the words themselves. It was the way she said them. He'd definitely heard those words before.

As she turned toward Sam, Dean grabbed her arm, stopping her. He yanked hard enough to pull her off balance. She fell to the ground at his feet and he quickly wrapped his legs around her to keep her from getting up again. She raised a fist to punch him, but he grabbed her arm for a second time, stopping the blow. Before she could strike again, he pulled her sleeve up her arm. The sight that greeted him shocked him enough that 'Vera' was able to easily wriggle out of his grasp and get back on her feet.

Torxing marks.

Dean quickly collected himself. Maybe it didn't mean anything. After all, anyone who had gone through it could do it. He had those scars, Danny had them.

Still, it wasn't exactly common. Dean was afraid to ask, but he didn't have a choice.

"Alice?"

They locked eyes for a long time. Part of her wanted to deny it. Despite what she was doing, she still cared about him. She still cared what he thought of her. She didn't want him to know it was her stabbing him in the back.

Another part of her knew the jig was up. There was no point denying it, but she couldn't bring herself to answer him.

Her silence was enough. Dean looked shell-shocked under the sink. She waited patiently, until finally, his shock gave way to anger and something deeper. Uglier.

Dean had never felt more betrayed in his life.

"Don't do this," he begged. "Not you. I can't… Alice, we'll find another way."

It was Alice's turn to be angry. She wanted to slap him, but she held back. Instead, she crouched down to his level and grabbed him by the collar.

"You had another way!" she hissed. "And you didn't take it!"

Dean frowned in confusion. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"So now I don't have a choice," she went on. "I have to take care of myself, because no one else is going to!"

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded. "What other way?"

"You know damn well!" Alice yelled, shaking him. "You left me down there! You let them take you and you let them leave me behind!"

She stood abruptly, turning her back on him as she fought to control her emotions. This was a bad look and a waste of time, but she couldn't stop herself.

"In hell? I left you in hell?"

The confusion in his voice caught her off guard.

"Don't play dumb," she snapped. "You know what you did."

"I don't! Alice, I don't remember leaving hell!" Dean insisted. "I don't remember you, I don't-"

"It doesn't matter," Alice said bitterly. It was well within the angel's power to wipe Dean's memory. Why they would do that was another question entirely, one that she didn't have the time or inclination to wrestle with. "I don't care if you don't remember what happened. I'll never forget."

"I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"Do you mean that?" Alice asked, glancing back at him. He nodded and she held up the contract in response. "If you're really sorry, then make it up to me."

She held the pen out to him again. Dean stared at it for a long moment.

"I can't," he finally said.

Alice nodded and set the contract down on the counter.

"That's what I thought," she said. Just as she didn't love Dean enough to go to hell for him, she never really believed he loved her enough to go to hell for her. "Well. If you won't do it for my sake…"

She pulled a folding knife out of her pocket, opening it with a snap that rang out like a gunshot in the kitchen.

"Maybe you'll do it for Sam's."

She hauled Sam up into a sitting position. Sam went along without struggling, watching Dean raptly like he expected him to do something to stop her. Why wasn't he putting up a fight?

"Don't do this!" Dean warned straining against the cuff that kept him from helping his brother. The pipe it was secured to was old, strong cast iron.

"Don't make me!" Alice shot back.

"Alice I swear to god if you touch a hair on his damn head-"

"What, Dean?! What are you gonna do about it?!"

"Don't make me cross that bridge!" Dean growled. If Alice was bluffing, it was cruel, but understandable. If she really hurt Sam… that was something Dean would never forgive.

"You're not giving me a choice!" Alice yelled. "Come on, Dean! Sign the damn paper!"

"No!"

Alice thrust the knife into Sam's arm. His scream was muffled by the gag in his mouth, but its effect on Dean was the same. He struggled ferociously against his restraint, despite knowing that it wouldn't do him any good. He growled and cursed her, enraged beyond reason.

There was no coming back from this. He was going to have to kill her.

* * *

Kaydie and Castiel sat down the road from the homeless shelter, waiting for Dean to emerge. It had been over an hour since he'd entered the dilapidated building and Kaydie's gut was telling her something was wrong. Still, they had no idea why Dean was here. Interference in his activities was a last resort for both of them, so she ignored the instinct of foreboding for as long as she could. She distracted herself by texting her grandmother for the first time since informing her that she had lost Dean to the enigmatic dark-haired hunter. She tried to hold back her excitement, keeping her update strictly informational as she explained who she was working with and why.

She waited for Greta to text her back, but five minutes passed, each extended into an eternity in the stifling silence surrounding her and her celestial companion.

"We should go in and see what's going on," Kaydie said, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"I sense nothing," Castiel repeated his words from a half an hour earlier, when Kaydie had first proposed they get closer.

"Yeah, well I sense that something's rotten in Denmark," Kaydie retorted.

Castiel fixed her with a look of consternation and she quickly rephrased.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said instead, nodding at the shelter. She was quickly getting used to Castiel's inability to interpret metaphor. She was also realizing that she used way too many metaphors and figures of speech anyway.

"Well, as a being who actually possesses the ability to sense whether there is food in Denmark that has outlived its shelf life-"

"Spare me, I get it," Kaydie groaned. "You don't think we need to check on him and your opinion is better than mine."

"Our orders are very similar," Castiel pointed out. "We are to ensure Winchester's safety. We are not to impede his work."

"He's not in there working. There's no case in this town."

Kaydie's phone dinged at last and she abandoned her argument with Castiel to check her texts.

_Be careful. Angels are dangerous. Under no circumstances allow yourself to become comfortable around them. There's much you don't know._

Kaydie frowned and quickly sent a reply.

_What don't I know?_

_I'm occupied at the moment. I'll call you when I have a chance. Until then, keep your guard up._

Kaydie raised an eyebrow at Greta's messages. Her grandmother never texted anyone back while she was preoccupied. The fact that she had replied this time gave her words extra weight.

A glance at the clock told her that it had been a full hour and a half since she'd last seen Dean.

"Castiel," she said, a new edge of caution in her words after Greta's warning. "What can you sense?"

She nodded toward the shelter.

"Can you tell what he's doing in there?"

"Of course, if I wish."

"It's been a long time since he went in there. I think you should check on him."

"Very well. But I've told you before, I sense... nothing."

Castiel frowned deeply and was silent for a long moment.

"Too much nothing," he finally said. He disappeared abruptly and Kaydie nearly gave herself whiplash looking around for him. She spotted him at the entrance of the shelter, standing stone still.

"Friggin' featherhead," she mumbled, getting out of the car and jogging across the street to join him.

"You're right," he told her when she got there, catching her by surprise. It was the first thing he'd said about her that approached positivity. "Something's wrong."

"What?"

"This abode has been warded against angelic influence."

"You can't see inside," Kaydie realized. "That's why you've been sensing nothing."

"The warding is powerful," Castiel informed her. "I am unable to enter."

"Uh-huh."

That was all Kaydie needed to hear. She should have listened to her gut and gone in an hour ago. She drew her gun and checked the clip, before marching back to her car. She opened the back door and flipped up the seat cushions, revealing a compartment that held her hunting supplies. She grabbed three clips of bullets, each etched with different symbols and hand forged back at home. They would kill or impair damn near anything that crept or crawled on god's green earth. She also tucked a few hex bags into her pockets and traded out the knife she kept up her sleeve for a silver one. Castiel watched her silently from across the street, expression indecipherable.

"Is all that witchcraft really necessary?" he asked when she got back within hearing distance.

"Considering that the witchcraft can go places you can't? I'd say so," Kaydie replied. "Wish me luck."

Castiel stopped her before she could enter the shelter.

"Be careful, Smith. Whoever or whatever put up this warding is dangerous."

"So am I," she grinned, cocking her gun.

She walked through the door without another word, taking quick stock of her surroundings and moving on swiftly. Once she reached the hall, she heard Dean yelling. She followed his voice, gun at the ready. As she got closer, she could also make out a second man's muffled screams and a woman's voice.

"You can stop this! Just sign it!"

"You bitch! I'm gonna kill you when I get loose! I swear to god I'm gonna kill you!"

"Wrong answer!"

The muffled screams rose in pitch and volume. Kaydie knew those screams. She recognized the agonized shrieks of a man being tortured.

She peeked around a corner into a large kitchen. The scene that greeted her was grisly enough to turn even her hardened stomach.

Dean was thrashing under a sink, straining desperately against a single handcuff that kept him from attacking a woman. Kaydie recognized her immediately as the dark-haired hunter Dean had left her for at the motel. The screams were coming from the woman's feet, from a man that it took Kaydie a minute to place as Sam Winchester. He was covered in blood and writhing against the woman's hold. He was big enough that Kaydie knew the hunter holding him down must have been supernaturally strong to keep him from escaping. Especially considering the fact that she was slowing peeling the skin off his arm.

Kaydie swallowed hard as she took stock of the situation. She quickly withdrew, flattening herself against the wall as she gathered herself and considered the best strategy. Despite herself, her arm tingled unpleasantly as she imagined the pain Sam must be in.

She forced it from her mind and took advantage of the loud screams to quickly swap out her clip. Holy water forged bullets engraved with an archaic exorcism would handle a demon, if that was what this hunter was. She had a hex bag in her pocket that would take a witch out of commission and a silver knife that would give her an edge against ten different kinds of monsters. Anything else, she was confident she could kill with a little improvisation.

Ready as she could be, Kaydie prepared herself to go in shooting. She was stopped however, by unexpected silence from the kitchen. She poked her head around the corner again to find that the hunter had vanished, leaving Dean staring after her.

Cautiously, Kaydie stepped into the room.

"Winchester!" she hissed, catching Dean's attention as she approached. "Where did she go?"

Dean never anticipated that he would be so glad Kaydie Smith was following him. He nodded toward another doorway.

"That way! She must have heard you."

"Here."

Kaydie fished a bobby pin out of her hair and held it up.

"You know how to use this?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She tossed it to him and hurried toward the door he indicated.

"Get your brother out of here."

"Kaydie- Hey!"

Dean called after her, trying to warn her about what she was going up against, but Kaydie was already gone.

"Sam! Hang on!"

He took a deep, steadying breath, struggling to ignore his bleeding brother just long enough to get himself out of the cuffs. With a groan, Sam sat up shaking himself and holding his arms out to examine them.

"Dios mio!" he exclaimed.

Dean rolled his eyes internally, wondering where Sam had picked that up in the time that they'd been apart. It took him a moment to realize that his brother was suddenly untied. His eyes snapped back to Sam in time to see him stand. He gawked, unable to process what he was seeing.

"Sam! How did you..."

He trailed off. As he watched, Sam's image shimmered and faded. In his place, stood someone Dean recognized, though just barely.

"You!" he said, unable to recall the guy's name. It was the Mexican trickster Sam had shown up with when they were running from Lilith's goons. He was dressed sharply in a deep blue tuxedo and silver dress shoes that sparkled with an impractical amount of glitter. He examined his reflection in a hanging pan, straightened his glittery silver bow tie and slicked back his hair, all the while muttering to himself in Spanish. Finally, he turned to Dean, who was so dumbfounded he had forgotten he was trying to lockpick his way out of the handcuffs.

"Cazador," he greeted him. "I feel like I owe you an explanation."

Dean felt that way too, but he was still too stunned to speak.

"I never meant for this to go so far," he said. "Qué rápido se sale de control una buena broma!"

"I... You..."

"Your brother was never here, mi amigo estupefacto," he explained. "Alice called me here to help her trick you into thinking he was. Now, I thought it was going to be a marvelous gag. Being... well, _me,_ I could do nothing but cooperate with our conocimiento mutuo psicótico."

Dean only understood half of what Huehuecoyotl was saying and he was having trouble absorbing the new information. Alice was... playing a prank on him? That didn't make any sense.

"But you see, I have a reputation to uphold," Huehuecoyotl went on. "Solo trucos inofensivos, siempre trucos inofensivos. This chick is really after your soul, muchacho. There's nothing funny about that. I refuse to have anything more to do with it. Me lavo las manos de esta locura."

He mimed washing his hands, then held them up as if in surrender.

"As far as I'm concerned, the rest of this ugly affair is between the two of you. If Alice asks, tell her I've held up my end of our old bargain... I no longer owe her anything. I'll be pleased if I never have to hear from any of you ever again."

A glittery silver top hat materialized on his head and he tipped it at Dean in farewell.

"Adiós y me alegro de deshacerme de todos ustedes cazadores y de su interminable drama!"

He walked out of the shelter, whistling to himself and leaving Dean dumbfounded under the sink. His shock was interrupted by a series of gunshots from the other room. He realized he had dropped the hair pin at some point during the aztec trickster's monologue. He quickly retrieved it and freed himself. He rubbed his raw wrist and stood, preparing to rush in to see what had happened in the next room. He paused though, and doubled back, quickly going through the cabinets. They were mostly empty, but he turned up a few desiccated rat poison pellets, unidentifiable remnants of fruit, a few unlabeled spices and...

Salt!

Dean seized the dusty container and shook it. It sounded half full. Hopefully it would do. Dean prayed that Kaydie was faring well in the other room, but he needed to prepare for the possibility that he would find her dead and still need to deal with Alice. He rationed the salt carefully, creating an open circle in front of the door and placing the container on the ground in the next room. Satisfied, he made his way down the hall, peeking through doorways carefully. In the third room, he found Kaydie standing over Alice's body. Or rather, the body of the woman she had been possessing.

She wasn't moving.

"Is she..."

Dean trailed off, unsure how he felt as he entered the room.

"Dead," Kaydie told him. She checked the clip of the gun she was holding.

"How?" Dean demanded.

"Well, you shot her fifteen times," she said. "And stabbed her... gross overkill, really."

"How did you know-"

Kaydie pointed her gun at Dean before he could finish his sentence. It only took him a moment to realize what must have happened.

"Alice," he sighed. At this point, he was more exhausted than anything else. He felt like he was stuck on an adrenaline fueled emotional rollercoaster that rivaled even hell's seemingly endless supply of creative ways to ruin his day.

"Funny thing about hunters. Anyone worth their salt has an anti-possession tattoo to keep the demons at bay... hardly anyone is worried about keeping anything else out," she observed. "Hands up. Back to the kitchen."

Dean shook his head and did as she ordered, secure in the knowledge that he was leading her into a trap.

"Boy, today is just one shitshow after another," he said.

"Today?" Alice snorted. "Our life is a never ending shitshow. What made you wake up today thinking you were gonna catch a break?"

"Right, I should have seen this coming," Dean amended in jest. "After all, what kind of idiot doesn't assume his girl is gonna come back from the dead and sell him out to save her own ass?"

"Don't get righteous with me, Dean," she snapped. "You'd do the same in my shoes."

"Never."

"You're so full of shit."

"Alice."

He stopped, turning to face her. She cocked the gun and he quickly put his hands back up, though he held her eyes solemnly.

"Not in a million years," he assured her.

Maybe he was looking too hard, tricking himself into seeing what he wanted to see, but he could have sworn that for just a second, Alice's features contorted with regret. It vanished before he could be sure it had really been there, replaced with a scowl.

"Shut up and get moving."

Dean obliged, leading her into the kitchen. Just as he passed the threshold, he made his move. He turned and grabbed Alice, pushing her into the room as hard as he could. She cried out and fell, stopping short as she reached the edge of the salt line he'd laid. Dean grabbed the container of salt, spilling its remnants in the doorway and trapping Alice.

"No!"

She scrambled back to her feet, looking around wildly. She leveled the gun at Dean again, frantic.

"Break the salt line! Now!"

"Or what? You'll shoot me? Before I sign your precious paper?" Dean demanded.

"Dean! You son of a-"

"Stop! Just stop! Alice... Put the damn gun down and talk to me, damn it!"

Alice shook with rage. Her breath came hard as the temperature in the room dropped drastically. She found it all but impossible to reason, but somehow she managed it. Slowly, she realized she was out of options. Dean had won.

"Fuck," she swore half-heartedly. She lowered the gun and leaned against the door jamb. She looked as exhausted as Dean felt.

"I know that wasn't Sam," Dean informed her. "That trickster you talked into this little... operation of yours... this was too much crazy even for him. Now, I don't know what the hell happened to you, Alice. I don't know what you think I did to you-"

"What I think you did?!" Alice snapped. "I didn't imagine anything, Dean! You did it!"

"Did what?! I don't remember!"

"I thought we covered this! I don't give a crap what you remember! You forgetting what you did doesn't make it right!"

"So tell me! Tell me what the hell it was I did so I can make it right!" Dean suggested angrily. "I'd like to know what the hell it was that could possibly be so bad that you decided to team up with the demons!"

"What other choice did I have?!" Alice demanded. "What did you want me to do, Dean, tell them to shove it when they offered me a get out of jail free card?! Come on! As if you didn't jump at the first opportunity they gave you to get off that rack! You didn't give a damn what you had to do! All you were worried about was yourself!"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Dean snapped. "I had plenty of opportunities to get off that rack! I turned all of them down!"

"Wow," Alice scoffed. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Dean took a deep breath, resisting the urge to keep shouting. Instead, he forced himself to lower his voice, soften his tone.

"Come on, Alice," he plead. "What do you know that I don't?"

Alice was quiet for a long time. Dean waited. Finally, his patience paid off.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.

Dean swallowed hard as hell seized the opportunity to assault him. It was like a rabid beast, jumping at any chance it had to hit him with nightmarish flashes.

"I remember... I..."

He met Alice's eyes. Kaydie's eyes, but unlike Vera's blue eyes, these resembled Alice's. They were olive green. They lacked the shifting, ever changing hues that Dean was used to seeing when he looked into Alice's eyes, but they were familiar enough that they sparked a memory.

_Another day. Or was it night? Time didn't matter in hell. When he first arrived, Dean was afraid the torture would be non-stop. The first time Alastair had taken a break from carving him up like a Christmas goose, he'd been relieved, only until he figured out it was all part of the torture. Waiting for the pain to come back, the terrible certainty that it would... sometimes it was worse than the pain itself._

_"Dean, my boy!"_

_Alastair's voice made his stomach turn. While he was waiting, Dean always wished for the wait to be over. When it was over, he always prayed for its return. Hell offered no respite, only the illusion that one might come._

_"My, my, have I got a treat for you today," Alastair clucked, circling him like a shark. "We've found something of yours. Care to take a guess at what it could be?"_

_Dean clenched his jaw and waited for the torture to start. He had nothing to say to his tormentor._

_"No guesses? Not one? You mean to say I've stumped you? I'll give you a hint."_

_Alastair bent low to whisper in Dean's ear. He braced himself, preparing for the agony. Maybe a knife in the ear, maybe the ear coming off. Strangely, nothing happened._

_"She asked for you by name."_

_Dean risked a glance at Alastair and met a pair of dark eyes set in charred, twisted flesh mere inches from his. The delight in Alastair's eyes sent a chill down Dean's spine._

_"As a matter of fact, she's been begging us to let you see each other for years," Alastair went on, straightening. "I always thought it would be more fitting to deny her request, until someone pointed something out to me... a brilliant opportunity that, to be honest, I'm surprised I didn't think of first."_

_Alastair's deformed mouth rose in what Dean interpreted as a grin. Around them, the scene shifted. Hell was incredibly fluid. Dean was never sure if the demons controlled its appearance or if it knew on its own what would terrify its occupants most. Now, he found himself in a dark, dirty concrete room with a high ceiling. A single iron wrought door stared at him from the wall. Dean ignored it. He knew from awful experience that it led nowhere. He'd accepted a long time ago that there was no escape for him._

_"Well, I've kept you in suspense long enough," Alastair opined. He shouted over his shoulder. "Bring her in!"_

_The door behind him opened and two demons dragged a woman into the room. She was slumped over bonelessly, shoulder length hair so encrusted with blood that Dean couldn't tell what color it was._

Dean groaned loudly, snapping back to the present as he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull. He clutched his head and doubled over as the pain intensified. The memory fractured and fragmented, breaking into splintered pieces that stabbed his brain like icicles. He let the images ebb away and the pain along with them. Alice watched him with keen interest as he gasped for breath.

"Damn. They really did a number on you, huh?" she said. "Fine."

"Who's they?" Dean asked, straightening as the effects of his episode faded.

"I'll get to that," she sighed. "First, I guess I have to tell you what happened. You know. On your last day in hell."


	9. No Holds Barred

_All my life, I've been running towards the fight._

_Oh Lord, when I die, make my life a lullaby._

_'Til that lonely night, keep my fire burning like a star._

_I'm not afraid of the dark._

_Too many years that I've wasted, now I can't slow down._

_I'm just so scared that I'm fading, I just can't slow down._

_I'm not afraid..._

**_The Dark, ZZ Ward_ **

* * *

**852 Hell Days Earlier**

* * *

_Hell wasn't as bad as Alice remembered it being._

_For a long time, she assumed she was losing her mind. Hell was exactly the same now as it had been the last time she was here. The place wasn't exactly known for its fluid nature. After years and years, she realized it wasn't hell that was different; it was her._

_The first time she'd been sentenced to rot here for eternity, the hopelessness had been overwhelming. She didn't know it at the time, but the hopelessness was the worst part of hell. Now, she was here with a purpose. After every session on the rack, she had a reason to laugh at a joke only she was in on. She wouldn't be here forever this time, assuming she could force Naziel to keep his promise. Granted, that was about as likely as one of these demons handing her a slice of cheesecake. No, Alice had plenty of time to think while she was looking for Dean Winchester. Thirty years was a long time. Long enough to come up with a lot of bad plans and one that was simple, beautiful and infallible._

_All she needed was one good plan._

_"Dean Winchester. I need to see Dean Winchester."_

_Saying it out loud had been a mistake, a slip-up she'd made years ago, but she was running with it. What was the worst that could happen?_

_After a decade, she became sure that the worst that could happen was pretty terrible. She'd been hoping hell wouldn't be able to miss the opportunity to taunt them with each other. Maybe it knew keeping them apart would be worse._

_"I did a thousand years," she told herself. She spent a lot of time talking to herself these days. "What's one more day? What's one more day?"_

_"Cute," the demon holding the knife commented. Alice recognized this guy. He was an amateur. This would be an easy day. At least, as easy as a day could get when you were going to spend it with some asshole sorting your organs into neat piles on the table next to you while you watched._

_"Hey, how would you like a promotion, pee-wee?" Alice said. "How'd you like to finally do something so bad it gets you some attention? Gets you some recognition? This is baby stuff and you know it."_

_He was a man of few words. He replied by hacking off one of her fingers. She screamed, then she laughed, then they did it again. It was shaping up to be another day in paradise._

_"Mark!"_

_A voice rang out, stopping the demon mid-slice. He turned to look at someone Alice couldn't see. Still, she recognized the voice._

_"Look, I like your enthusiasm," Parsifal told him. "But when they're laughing, it means you're doing something wrong. It's hell, not a comedy workshop."_

_Mark the demon nodded as Parsifal sauntered into Alice's line of vision._

_"Then again," he mused, "After a thousand years and change, there's not much left you can do to a person that they won't laugh at."_

_"Perse," Alice all but purred. "I never thought I'd see you again. What brings you down this way? Meat suit and all. Must be a special occasion."_

_"You're not wrong. I've got a new job."_

_"Exciting. What is it, torture auditor? Pain coach?"_

_"Something like that... there's a very special project upper management felt they needed a fresh set of minds working on," he explained. "See if some new blood wasn't just what they needed to solve a problem that's been stumping the old timers for over two hundred years."_

_"Two hundred years? That's a drop in the bucket down here," Alice said dismissively. "What's the rush?"_

_"You got me there. But hey, I'm not one to question a turn of good fortune," Parsifal said._

_"And you what, thought that while you were in the neighborhood it would be nice to drop by and make sure your old buddy was getting the quality torture she deserves?" Alice cackled. She realized that she sounded like a lunatic. I f anyone deserved a little lunacy, it was her._

_"Not quite. Why, Alice, I'm here to do you a favor," Parsifal informed her._

_Her heart skipped a beat. She remembered their last meeting, when he'd hinted at being able to 'get her promoted fast'. Was that why he was here? To get her off this rack for good?_

_Of course, she thought with a sinking feeling, that would mean becoming a demon. Despite that, she still felt relieved. The thought that had once been so odious to her now felt like salvation. She had to face the reality that even if she made it out of hell again, even if Naziel was as good as his word, she would always be hunted. There would always be a mark on her soul, damning her to an eternity she could either spend on the run or the rack. 'Promotion' was as close to a way out as she would ever get._

_"I know you've been asking for quite some time now to see that friend of yours. Dean Winchester."_

_"Oh. Yeah."_

_It was what Alice wanted, but after her brief fantasy of demonhood and it's perks, the sudden realization of her goal fell flat._

_"You sound disappointed."_

_"Last time I saw you, you said you could get me promoted fast," she sighed._

_"Oh right. That time you tortured me for hours on end," Parsifal recalled, a bitter edge creeping into his tone._

_"Hey, if you're sore about it, why are you doing me any favors at all?" Alice asked._

_"I guess I have to admit, there's something in it for me," he grinned._

_"What?"_

_"Oh. You'll see."_

_Parsifal and his grin disappeared into the shadows and two more demons stepped forward to grab Alice._

* * *

"Hold on."

Dean interrupted Alice's story, putting a hand up to stop her as his headache came back. She was feeding him the same line of crap as the other Smiths.

"I don't buy this," he informed her. "Angels? Had you in hell looking for me? That's just... You know that's crazy, right?"

"You act like you never tangled with angels before," Alice scowled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I never have."

"Um, Bisbee?" she reminded him. "1992? Roger's house, Anna, Naziel, huge demonic splash party? Is none of this ringing any bells?"

"Look, I don't know who or what that Anna woman was," Dean growled. "But she was NOT an angel. Maybe that's what she told you, maybe you bought that line of crap, but I'm telling you, she was just another monster."

"What is it with you and- You know what? I could give a rat's ass. Keep your skepticism," Alice hissed. "I'll call them angels and you can believe that they're the tooth fairy's overpaid assistants for all I care."

Dean hated the hostility in her tone. He hated that he had her stuck in a circle of salt. He hated that she had brought them to this and he hated that he didn't have many choices at this point. She hadn't given him a lot of choices and he hated her for backing him into such a crappy corner.

"Can I finish the story, or do you have any other details you'd like to call crazy? You know, in this totally believable tale of how you _escaped from hell,_ " Alice snarked.

"Go on."

Dean didn't look happy, but Alice wasn't interested in making him happy. She knew about the angel Kaydie had riding shotgun and she needed time to figure out how she was going to wiggle her way out of this one. She needed to figure out what she would do next if she did manage to escape from Dean.

Alice needed to stall as long as was humanly possible.

* * *

_"You wanna tell me where we're going?"_

_The demons marched Alice though hell's shifting landscape. One minute they trudged through ice and snow, the next across a dry, barren plain, the next a burning, sulfurous wasteland. Hell was many things, none of them pleasant._

_"I asked a question," Alice said._

_"I heard the first time. Ask again and I'll knock your teeth out," the demon to her left threatened._

_"Ooh, scary," she taunted._

_True to her word, the demon dealt her a blow that left her head spinning and sent a few of her teeth flying. She dropped to her knees, spat out a mouthful of blood and tongued the aching holes left in her gums._

_"You missed a couple," she told the demon._

_"My bad," she growled. "Let me take care of the rest of those for you."_

_Her second strike sent Alice to the ground where she lay groaning quietly._

_"You like your job too much," the demon at Alice's right accused the one at her left._

_"Sue me."_

_Alice didn't get back up and the demons didn't waste time trying to force her to. They grabbed her under her arms and hauled her the rest of the way. Hell's ever changing scenery settled into dirty, wet concrete that scraped Alice's knees bloody as the demons dragged her across it. She remained limp, too dazed and jaded to care about the new injuries. Finally, they took her through a door and let her fall back to the ground. She hit her head and her vision went black for a moment. The loss in consciousness would have been nice if it lasted longer. Too soon, she was brought back to her senses by someone grabbing her_ _hair. She shrieked as she was hauled to her feet, momentarily forgetting herself and hell. She cursed and threw a punch that had no effect on her assailant._

_"You son of a bitch! You'd better kill me! I swear to god if you don't kill me I'll-"_

_"Alice!"_

_She was stopped cold by a familiar voice. Dean's voice. Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Jarringly, she remembered who she was, where she was and why._

_"Dean," she gasped, forgetting to struggle for a moment as she processed the scene._

_After so many long, long years of searching, hoping in vain, there he was. Dean Winchester, not in the flesh, but in the spirit. Close enough for government work. He was strapped to a rack only feet from her. If she took three steps forward, she would be able to touch him. She tried, but someone held her back and she cried out as their hold on her hair tightened. Still, her mood was undampened. This was it. It was all over._

_"Dean!" Alice said again, this time with a grin. "Finally! I've been looking for you for... that doesn't matter. We're going to get out of here! Dean!"_

_He looked at her like she was insane. Not a bad assumption, given the circumstances. In spite of it all, Alice felt saner than she had in three decades._

_Suddenly, their places were reversed. Alice was strapped to the rack while Dean stood five feet from her, swaying dangerously. They were both disoriented and Alice was impressed that Dean had managed to keep his footing. She might have dropped to her knees if she wasn't secured to the table._

_"Feisty, feisty, this one."_

_A demon stood over her with a scalpel and a wicked smile. He spoke to Dean tauntingly._

_"She reminds me of you the first time we met. Remember how I cut that fighting spark out of you, Dean?"_

_The demon stroked her cheek with the blade but didn't break her skin. Dean started forward, rage written all over his features as the demons who had brought Alice in grabbed him and held him back._

_"Alastair! I swear to God if you touch her-"_

_"Touch!"_

_Alastair slapped a hand to Alice's bare stomach. It was more than his burning, cracking skin that made her flinch. She knew his name, knew him by reputation. The demon cackled with delight at his joke while Dean struggled and Alice realized she was caught in the middle of something she wouldn't want to be found within a hundred miles of._

_"Tell you what, Dean my boy," Alastair grinned. "She's obviously important to you. I'll cut you a deal."_

_He motioned to the demons and they brought Dean closer. Alastair flipped the razor, offering it to Dean by its handle._

_"I won't touch a hair on her precious head... as long as you do the honors instead."_

_Dean's expression contorted with horror. Alice was out of the loop and she was hoping to keep it that way. Desperately, fervently, she prayed. She called out to Naziel with every ounce of concentration she could muster given the circumstances. She closed her eyes while Alastair continued to barter with Dean over her body._

_"Never! I'd never-"_

_"You'd never hurt her?" Alastair interrupted him. "You'd never be able to bring yourself to spill a single drop of her blood? Let me paint a picture for you Dean."_

_Alice gasped in pain as her abdomen lit up with agony, forcing her eyes to snap open. Alastair was quite literally painting a picture in her skin with his razor._

_"You can cut the bitch a few times, shallow as you like," Alastair purred. "Or I can do... this."_

_He presented his masterpiece and though Alice couldn't see it with her head strapped to the rack, Dean's sickened expression told her it could be nothing short of horrific._

_"Oh, and don't let me forget," Alastair added, "My previous offer still stands. Come on, Winchester, this is a double win for you. Spare your former lover an artful dismemberment and buy your way off the rack for the rest of eternity. What do you have to lose?"_

_Dean just gaped, at a loss for words. He took too long with his answer and Alastair sighed._

_"Very well then... as you wish, Winchester. Hold this for me, my dear."_

_He casually plunged the razor into Alice's arm. She screamed as she felt a tendon snap. Pain fired through her entire body, though the wound seemed minor by all outward appearances. With a chill, she realized Alastair's dread reputation was well-earned. As opposed to the amateur she'd been stuck with earlier, she now found herself at the mercy of a true master of the art of torture._

_Dementedly, the demon began to sing as he looked over an arsenal of tools._

_"All of me," he sang, running his fingers lovingly over his blades. "Why not take all of me? Can't you see... I'm no good without you. Take my lips..."_

_His touch lingered over a pair of shears that made Alice's skin crawl, but they moved on._

_"... I want to lose them! Take my arms..."_

_He picked up a butcher knife and turned back to her._

_"I'll never use them!"_

_"Where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?!" Alice shouted. Naziel was taking way too long to answer her call._

_"Alastair! Stop!"_

_The demon paused, watching Dean expectantly._

_"I'll do it!" Dean yelled desperately. "I'll do it! Stop, please just stop! I'll do it, I swear!"_

_"I love the enthusiasm!" Alastair crowed. "Exquisite."_

_He brought the cleaver down swiftly and Alice didn't have time to prepare herself for the pain before a loud 'clunk!' informed her that he had sunk it deep into the wood of the table beneath her rather than into her body. He pulled the razor from her flesh and flipped it playfully through the air. Despite herself, Alice had to admire his skill with the blade. She would have been jealous if she wasn't so busy being terrified._

_At a nod from Alastair, the demons released Dean and stepped back. Dean leaned heavily against the table, catching Alice's frightened gaze. He looked as scared as she felt._

_"I'm sorry," he told her as he took the razor from Alastair._

_Alice's stomach turned. Somehow, the thought of Dean doing this to her was worse than anything Alastair could have done. Alastair could hurt her as bad as he wanted. Dean on the other hand... she was supposed to be able to trust Dean. After all, hunters didn't torture other hunters... did they?_

_"Dean! Please! You don't have to... they can't make you..."_

_"Alice, I have to do this," he told her. Something in his eyes stopped her heart cold. Suddenly, she understood. Of course she did. He had the chance to get off the rack forever. The same chance she wanted. How could he turn it down?_

_Alice prayed harder while Alastair skulked around to stand behind Dean like a twisted shadow._

_"Go on, boy," he urged him quietly. "Clock's a-ticking."_

_"Naziel, please!" Alice whispered, praying out loud in her desperation. Dean leaned down, trying to hear what she was saying. She kept begging for help from on high while he hesitated with the blade poised over her chest._

_"Do it!" Alastair hissed violently._

_Dean swallowed visibly and Alice felt the razor's edge, freezing in the burning darkness as it kissed her skin. There it rested while Dean remained still, frozen with emotions that Alice didn't have time to decipher. The tense moment was interrupted by the rustle of wings, loud as an avalanche in the stark cell. Dean dropped the razor onto Alice's chest, startled by a sudden shout from one of the demons at his back. There was a flash of light as two angels fought their way past the demons. Alastair tackled one, while the other finished off the demon who had knocked Alice's teeth out and rushed to Dean's side._

_"Dean Winchester. Come with me!" he said. Behind them, Alastair wrestled with Naziel. Alice came alive with adrenaline. This was her only chance._

_"No, Dean!" she cried, struggling against the straps that bound her to the rack. "Don't go without me! Don't let them take you without me!"  
_

_"Castiel! Get him out of here!" Naziel shouted, struggling tremendously with Alastair._

_"Dean!"_

_Castiel grabbed Dean's shoulder. Dean met Alice's eyes as she begged him not to leave her. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood still as stone, expressionless as death as the angel pulled him away from her. Desperation gave way to anger as Alice realized he wasn't going to stand up for her._

_"Dean! Dean! God damn you, Dean Winchester!"_

_He and Castiel vanished with a brief flash. Alastair howled and separated himself from the angel, fleeing through the door as his prize was taken. Naziel was left disheveled from their battle, gasping for breath. He straightened and began to recompose himself. Alice knew he was preparing to leave._

_"Naziel!" she cried out. "You promised! You know who I am! You can't break that promise!"_

_Naziel sighed in annoyance and turned to face her. He stood over her, examining her with cold grey eyes._

_"I did promise, didn't I?" he said._

_"Get me out of here! You have to get me out of here!" Alice plead desperately. This was her last flimsy hope._

_"So it would seem," he said. "After all, your unbreakable promises... that Trickster's Touch you bargained for all those years ago..."_

_He stroked her cheek, watching the swirling colors of her eyes for a long moment. His serene smile put Alice's racing heart at ease. She hardly dared to believe it, but he was saying... he was really going to rescue her. He was going to save her from hell._

_"You are so used to getting what you want after living with it for so long, aren't you Smith?"_

_His tone turned disdainful, filling Alice with dread._

_"Naziel-"_

_"Shhh..."_

_He covered her mouth with his hand and bent down to examine the swirling colors of her eyes._

_"How foolish you are, child," he spat, "To think you could bind one such as I with a mere parlor trick."_

_Cold terror struck Alice through the heart like a silver spike. Leather straps held her helpless, unable to squirm away as Naziel placed a hand on her forehead. She screamed through his fingers as light flared around them and his power swept through her like an electric current. When it left, she felt dizzy and light as if she were going to float away. Something buzzed in her ears, muffling the sounds of hell and her own labored breathing. She felt no different than before, but she still knew what he had done. She knew that if she were to look in a mirror, she would see eyes that she hadn't seen since she was twelve. Normal eyes._

_Naziel had taken away the Trickster's Touch._

_"Good-bye and good riddance, Smith."_

_Naziel disappeared, leaving her alone and bleeding. Hopelessness, complete loss, profound betrayal all crashed over her like a crushing wave. Alice was over. This was her ending. It left her numb with desolation. Alice cried silently while she waited for the demons to return._

* * *

Dean listened without interrupting and without showing any emotion.

"So yeah," Alice concluded. "Now that you're all caught up, I'm sure you understand why I've got a bone to pick with you."

"Because I left without you? Did I even have a choice?"

"Of course."

"You sure? 'Cause the way you tell it, it doesn't seem like I had much of a chance to get a word in edgewise before that... guy, zapped me out of the pit."

"Angel. Before that _angel_ zapped you out of the pit," Alice corrected him. She eyed the line of salt separating them. She had an idea, but she wasn't sure if it would work. Even if it did, she would still need to get past Castiel. Vera's body, while technically dead, carried charms that would make her invisible to him, courtesy of her demonic handler. If only she could get back to it... one thing was certain, she would need to go through Dean to do it.

"Whatever. Alice..."

"What?"

"Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well, it's a nice thought, but it's not worth much if you're not willing to back it up with action," she said pointedly.

"Don't shove that contract in my face again. You know I'm not going to sign it."

"So that's it? After everything we've been through, after what you did, you're just gonna hang me out to dry?" she demanded. "You _owe_ me, Dean."

"So let me help you. Tear that damn paper up and-"

"And what? Go on the run with you?"

"Yeah!"

"I tried running. No one can run forever. Not from death, not from what comes after."

"We'll figure something out. I won't let you go back to hell," Dean said solemnly. "That's a promise."

"Pinky swear?" Alice mocked. "Come on Dean! How much time can we waste fighting the inevitable?"

"Don't give up, Alice," Dean plead. "Not now. Not after we've made it this far!"

" _We_ didn't make it this far!" Alice argued. "You made it on your own! So did I! That's the way forward. Every man for himself."

Dean fell silent as he realized he wasn't going to be able to change her mind. Alice was adamant. She thought it was time for them to go their separate ways. Maybe she was right.

So what the hell was he supposed to do with her now?"

"You never make anything easy, do you?" he scoffed, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Me? Please. My middle name is easy," Alice shot back. She slipped out of Kaydie's shoe. "You're the stubborn one."

Dean didn't miss the strange action and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you-"

Before he could finish his question, she kicked the shoe and sent it sliding over the salt line, breaking it. She jumped the portion that remained, flying at Dean. He was ready for her attack, sidestepping her first three blows. He and Alice had fought a few times, just enough that he knew her style well enough to predict the sweeping kick that was meant to topple him. He dodged it and took advantage of the fact that she was now off balance to land a solid kick that sent her to the ground. While she was down he aimed a kick at her gut. Had she been any other woman, he would have felt bad about literally kicking her while she was down, but he knew better than to pull any stops with Alice. She wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass if he gave her the chance.

Alice rolled away from his second kick and retaliated with one of her own. It connected with his shin, bringing him cursing to the ground beside her. The fight turned into a wrestling match riddled with dirty tricks. Alice elbowed Dean in the gut, Dean kneed Alice in the chin. She got in a punch to the face and he retaliated with a brutal headbutt. They struggled tremendously until finally, Dean got a solid upper hand on Alice, holding her securely from behind. One of her hands was trapped beneath her own body and Dean held the other tight against her stomach. His legs weighed hers down and no matter how hard she struggled, Alice found herself unable to escape his grip.

"Alice, stop!" Dean growled, fighting to catch his breath after their battle. Against him, Alice took a break from struggling, though she didn't relax.

"It's over! It's over. Just stop."

She gasped for breath, taking a moment to let her pounding heart calm.

"You're good," she admitted, turning her head to catch his gaze over her shoulder. "I gotta give you that."

"You're no shrinking violet yourself," he replied, tonguing a split lip gingerly.

"Uh-huh."

Alice had one last trick up her sleeve. Whether it would work or not remained to be seen. She leaned back against him, twisting Kaydie's neck to an agonizingly unnatural angle so she could align her lips with his. Dean stiffened, but he had nowhere to go. He groaned into the kiss, fully aware of what she was trying to do.

"That's not gonna work," he said, turning away from her to break the kiss.

"Oh yeah?"

Alice thrust her hips back against his, grinning through bloodied teeth at what she felt there.

"Then what's that? 'Cause I know for a fact I took all the guns off you."

"Alice-"

"You win Dean, ok? You win," Alice insisted, trying to push her lips against his again. "I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry about everything. You're right, we can do this together. I guess I... I just forgot what a good team we make."

Dean's heart was pounding and his blood was racing, pushing adrenaline through him at a hundred miles an hour. Alice was telling him what he wanted to hear. He knew it was probably a lie, but he wanted it to be the truth. He wanted it badly and he was willing to take a risk on the chance that it was.

"Come on Dean... what do you say we try it your way?" she suggested, breath hot and heavy on his neck in the aftermath of their intense struggle. "Let's give it a shot."

"If I let you go you're gonna clock me out and start slicing pieces off of me until I sign that stupid contract!" Dean accused.

"I won't! Pinky swear!" Alice swore. "Come on Dean. What do you say we kiss and make up?"

Dean knew it was stupid. He knew it was a bad move on his part, but her lips were tantalizingly close to his and just similar enough to hers to be familiar and inviting. Kaydie's green eyes weren't a far cry from Alice's and now they sparkled with a fire he knew was Alice's. Without telling himself to, he found himself giving in to the kiss that she was pushing on him. It was a relief to press back against her, to feel her meeting him eagerly, parting her lips to let him in. The adrenaline fueled high of the fight flowed seamlessly into another kind of excitement, deeper and just as primal as the thrill of battle. He didn't realize he'd released her hand until he felt it on the back of his neck pulling him closer, until he felt his own fingers winding through her hair in kind. Their breathing, already labored from their fight, grew even heavier as they now fought to get as close to each other as possible.

Alice meant to trick Dean into freeing her and kick his ass in retaliation for the sound beating he'd just dealt her, but she found herself caught up in the moment, unable to tear her lips from his. Heat swept through her as he ran his hands down her desperately and she found herself unable to resist the urge to grind against him as their kiss grew hungrier. Passion ignited deep within her. She moaned deeply, partly from lust and partly from the pain of the bruises that were beginning to form over her ribs where he'd kicked her. Dean answered with a moan of his own, partly born of desire, partly of the fact that Alice was sucking his split lip too hard.

Suddenly, Alice pushed him back and he tensed, preparing to fight her. Before he could, she rolled to follow him, panting as she crushed her lips back against his. Dean let her climb on top of him, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips up against her as she did. She laced the fingers of her left hand through his right while his mouth moved greedily to her neck and his left hand found the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

"Dean, I'm sorry!" she gasped, biting her lip and swallowing her moans as she realized how badly she really wanted him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

There was more than regret in her tone. Alice sounded torn. It was just enough warning for Dean to know something was wrong. Not enough for him to do anything in time to avoid the knife she pressed against his throat in the next instant.

"Not sorry enough, apparently," Dean said drily, scowling up at her from the ground.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Dean," Alice said. She held his right hand against the cold tile. His left searched for anything that could help him and came into contact with the remains of the salt line.

"Screw you, Smith," Dean spat.

As Alice's features contorted with rage at his intentionally hurtful use of her surname, he hurled a handful of salt at her. With an ear rending shriek, Alice was ejected from Kaydie's body. She fell forward onto Dean, unconscious. Dean shoved her off him with a groan. He lay on the floor for a while, gasping for breath and gathering his wits. Finally, he stood, wincing as he felt the extent of the injuries he'd sustained at Alice's hands. He had a thought of going after Alice, but something told him that as a loose spirit, she wouldn't hang around long.

Dean picked Kaydie up and headed for the exit. He was picking his battles; this was far from over.


	10. Trickster's Touch

Ruby ditched the shrink in a downtown alley and hurried back to the motel. She thought Sam trusted her enough that Allison wouldn't be able to tell him anything he would believe. Even so, every minute she was absent was a risk she hated taking. She only agreed to Sam's plan because of how important it was to him that they save this girl. The last thing she needed right now was to disenfranchise him.

She slid in smoke form under the motel door and took her rightful place back inside her host. She took a deep breath, ransacking Allison's memories as she settled back into her familiar vessel. She smiled as she saw Allison's thoughts, felt her hopelessness. Sure, she'd had the opportunity to tell Sam anything she wanted, but she knew he wouldn't listen. So she'd held her silence.

 _Cat get your tongue, Ally?_ Ruby taunted.

Allison gave no reply.

"That went well," Ruby commented while Sam untied her. "But I'm not looking forward to carving myself up for another binding link. Don't ask me to do this again."

"Yeah," Sam replied flatly.

Ruby knew that tone. Something was bugging Sam. With a frown, she searched Allison's memories one more time to make sure she hadn't missed something.

 _Why is he moody?_ she demanded, doing the mental equivalent of shaking Allison.

 _Hell if I know!_ Allison shot back grouchily, slinking as far away from the demon as she could get in the confines of her own skull. _What do I look like, a jammed gumball machine? Take your problems with Sam out on him._

That was the last thing Ruby could do, but she didn't feel like screwing with Allison anymore either.

"You ok?" she asked him instead.

"Let's find out," he said shortly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He seemed tense, like he was waiting for something. Ruby noticed that something was missing from the picture.

"Where's the kid?" she asked, looking around the room. "Don't tell me I went to all that trouble just so you could lose her!"

"Relax, she's cleaning up," Sam assured her, nodding toward the bathroom.

"How do you know she's cleaning up and not sneaking out the window?" Ruby demanded.

"She's not going anywhere."

"Right."

Sam picked up a notepad off the bed. Ruby recognized it as the one Anna had clutched during her rescue.

"So, what's she been hearing?" Ruby asked out of genuine curiosity.

"A lot of it sounds like nonsense, but some of it... well, I want to hear what she has to say about it," Sam said. He snapped the notebook shut and fixed Ruby with a long, scrutinous look that made her feel uncomfortable. Never the less, she returned his gaze unflinching. She didn't know what he was looking for, but she refused to let him see it.

Finally, he spoke.

"Ruby, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Alarm bells went off in the demon's head. She struggled to keep her cool.

"Like...?"

"Anything you've been keeping from me."

"I don't keep anything from you, Sam," Ruby lied. "Not on purpose anyway. So if you've got something you want to ask me, do it and quit beating around the bush."

Sam's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Ruby could tell he was conflicted. His giant hazel eyes were like tomes of ancient script, overflowing with meaning for anyone with the knowledge to read them. Whatever was weighing on him, whatever he wanted to ask her, he was afraid of the answer. Whatever he suspected her of, he hoped it wasn't true.

Ruby swallowed hard, knowing something bad was coming and hoping that Sam's desire to believe she was his friend would save her from whatever it was.

Anna emerged from the bathroom a minute later with freshly washed hair, significantly calmer than when Ruby had last seen her. Ruby narrowed her eyes at the child when she passed, struggling to keep the animosity off her face. Whatever problems she was about to have to deal with, she had the feeling that Anna was their cause. Anna met her eyes for the briefest of moments, but gasped in fear and looked away, shrinking back against the wall instinctively.

"You-you're back," she stuttered unhappily.

"Relax kid, I'm one of the good guys," Ruby assured her. "I rescued you, right? Don't I get any credit for that?"

Ruby looked to Sam, waiting for him to speak up on her behalf, but she waited in vain. He launched right into his questioning.

"So, Anna, tell me more about the first thing you heard," he said. His tone was gentle, but there was an edge of poorly masked impatience in his words.

"Well... Like I said, it was that name," Anna told them. "I heard someone say 'Dean Winchester is saved'."

_Shit._

Suddenly, Ruby realized why Sam was giving her such stinkeye. Why he was moody, why he was asking her if she was keeping things from him. This was a big problem. This kid knew Dean was back and now, Ruby doubted she would be able to keep Sam from learning that it was true. Her mind raced, ideas and schemes flashing through her brain at a hundred miles an hour as she considered the possible ways to run damage control on this situation.

 _You are so screwed!_ Allison laughed maniacally in the back of her mind.

"Dean Winchester is saved," Ruby repeated. She met Sam's eyes, struggling to hide her panic. "That's all?"

"Well, no... after that it was... really loud, for a while," Anna explained haltingly. "I mean... I was just hearing so many voices, all the time. It was like someone turned on a radio and it started playing every channel all at once. At first, I tried to hide it, but... I mean, I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't sleep... people started to notice. I knew they were going to say I was crazy once I told them what was going on, but I couldn't take it anymore! I wanted help... I thought..."

"You thought they could help you at the hospital," Sam provided. Anna nodded. "But they couldn't," he guessed.

"No. They medicated me, but it didn't do anything," Anna sighed. "The voices slowed down on their own. Now I don't hear as many at one time. Sometimes I'll go a few minutes at a time without hearing any."

"You said they talk about Dean a lot," Sam pressed. "Do you remember what else they said?"

"Not really... I tried hard to ignore them before Dr. Pinsky had me take notes," Anna said. "Why do you care so much?"

"My name is Sam Winchester," he informed her. "Dean is my brother. For the last three months, I've been... looking for him."

"Sam," Ruby cut in, deciding on a course of action. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

 _It won't work. He doesn't trust you like he did yesterday,_ Allison taunted her. _Your plan is going to hell. So will you, soon._

Ruby wanted to tell Allison to shut her trap, but she needed to focus on Sam. She lead him out onto the sidewalk, closing the door so Anna could neither see nor hear them.

"Did you know?!" Sam demanded, keeping his voice low. Even so, it was saturated with fury. "Did know you Dean was out of hell?!"

"Sam-"

"Don't lie to me, Ruby! Don't you _dare_ lie to me!"

"Calm down!" Ruby yelled, backing away from him with a scowl. "You're jumping to the conclusion that what she's hearing is true! This stinks like a trap, Sam!"

"Set by who?!" he demanded.

"Lilith! It explains why she's got a big shot like Alastair in town!"

Sam hesitated and Ruby seized the foothold desperately.

"Think about it, Anna's dead parents are the whole reason we're here! Alastair used them to lure us here and he's using her to get you right where he wants you!" she hissed. "Lilith knows you're getting more powerful, she knows you're almost to the point where you could be a threat to her... Alastair's here to kill you before you get any stronger!"

 _Damn. I gotta admit, you're good,_ Allison sighed mournfully.

Sam looked torn. He wanted to believe Ruby's explanation, she could see it in his eyes. With a sinking feeling, she realized she could also see his doubt. His apprehension. His trust in her had been shaken and she was forced to face the reality that this time, she might not be able to win it back.

"If that's true then we need to get out of town," Sam reasoned, calming quickly as he considered Ruby's 'theory'. "We'll take Anna with us. If she hears anything else about Dean, we'll follow up on it."

"And if it leads us right into Alastair's trap?" Ruby demanded.

"I thought you said I was strong enough to handle him," Sam pointed out.

"I said you were _almost_ strong enough to handle him," Ruby retorted. "Not strong enough that I'm willing to throw you into the meat grinder and see if you come out with all your limbs still attached."

She sighed heavily, trying hard to plan ahead, doing her damnedest to plot out all the possible ways this mess could play out and most importantly, how she could mitigate the risk of losing Sam this late in the game.

She'd always had her work cut out for her. The corruption of Sam Winchester was never going to be an easy task and she'd known that from day one. But suddenly, all her work was in jeopardy of being totally undone and she herself was in mortal danger.

If Sam discovered her deception there was no way he would let her live.

* * *

Kaydie woke up with aching ribs, sore muscles and a splitting headache. All courtesy of Dean Winchester if her hazy recollections of her possession were to be trusted.

"Worst assignment ever," she grumbled as she struggled to come back to her senses fully. Like everyone else in her family, she was trained to resist possession. Unfortunately, Alice was family, no matter how detached from the Smith clan at large. She had a lot of the same training as Kaydie and the surprise of her ghost bursting out of Dean's mystery hunter gave her just enough of an edge to dominate Kaydie's will.

This was the second beating Kaydie had taken because of Alice. She was really starting to hate her cousin.

She sat up with a grimace and took in her surroundings. She was in a bed in an unfamiliar room. The walls were decorated with faded floral wallpaper and the generous coating of dust on the dresser informed her that this room wasn't frequently used. She glanced out the window, surveying a sizable lot full of scrap cars. Wondering where she was, she reached into her pocket for her phone, only to find the screen smashed.

"Damn it!" she cursed, stuffing the useless device back into her pocket. She ventured from the room, questions flooding her mind like a tsunami. How had she gotten here, why was she here, where was here, where was Alice? Where was Dean? Castiel? She pushed them aside, instead focusing on the present. She wasn't used to knowing so little and it set her on edge, but she knew that answers would present themselves soon. All she had to do was rise to meet them.

She made her way downstairs, following the sound of male voices. They lead her through a sitting room overrun with books and junk, to the threshold of a small kitchen, dimly lit against the gloom of impending nightfall. She approached stealthily, hiding her presence for the time being. She stopped at the door jamb and listened to the conversation. One voice she recognized as Dean's.

"I don't know what to do, Bobby," he sighed. "All I know is, I have to find Sam. I'm pretty sure Alice's next move is to hunt him down and I can't let her get to him first."

"Yeah, except we still don't even know where to start looking for Sam," a man she assumed was Bobby replied. "I know you don't want to hear this Dean, but you've got to do something about Alice before she does any real damage."

Kaydie rolled her eyes, expecting Dean to defend Alice. She had been only semi-lucid during her possession, but she was aware enough to know that Alice had gotten away from Dean by exploiting the romantic nature of their past relationship. Kaydie shuddered a little, revulsion and violation sweeping through her as she remembered the kiss. She was furious about having been used as a vehicle, shoved into the figurative trunk of her own body. She tried to tell herself that she didn't have time to dwell on what had happened, that she needed to stay present and sharp, but she couldn't help her simmering rage. Next time she met her cousin, she promised herself, she would end her.

"You're right," Dean agreed, surprising Kaydie. Had he finally admitted to himself just how dangerous, unpredictable and unhinged Alice really was? "But what do you want me to do, Bobby? She's already dead, so killing her is off the table."

"I hate to be the only one stating the obvious, but have you geniuses considered burning her bones?" a third voice put in.

"Does this look like a roomful of amateurs? I suggested that the first time she went postal," Bobby said. "No one knows where she's buried."

"Not true. I know."

Silence in the kitchen. Kaydie's interest was piqued. Caution begged her to stay hidden until she knew more, but at this point she assumed that Dean had brought her back with him out of good intentions. Still, she hung back, forcing herself to be content with listening for now.

"How?" Dean demanded.

"Like I said, I helped her with a case back in the day," the man explained. "Must have been '97, '98... she needed help on a demon hunt and I had reputation as the best demon hunter in the states. Still do, by the way. Unfortunately for Smith, things didn't go as planned. She didn't make it out alive."

"And you didn't salt and burn her?" Bobby demanded. "That doesn't sound like you, Rufus."

"Local police got to her body before I could. I didn't think it was worth going to all the trouble of breaking into the county morgue to give a hunter's send off to some girl I hardly knew."

"Figures," Bobby scoffed. "The one time you bend your rules, it comes back to bite you."

"Bite _me_? Excuse you, I don't have any part of this bull," Rufus exclaimed. "You called me in to help you save this muttonhead from the trap _he_ walked into. He got out of the trap just fine on his own. I'm hitting the road as soon as I get that bottle of Johnny Walker you promised me. Which better be soon by the way."

"It's in the pantry," Bobby grumbled. "Top shelf. I almost forgot how much of a grumpy son of a bitch you are."

"Yeah, you forget things like that when you call once every six months and stay on the line for five minutes max," Rufus replied. "Here. This is all the info you'll need to find her body."

"This is just a town, the name of a motel and... 'July-September'?"

"That's where and when she was killed. My advice is to go in passing yourself off as family claiming her body. She was going by the name Miller back then."

"No first name? And can't you at least narrow this down to the month for us?" Dean asked.

"Boy, this went down over ten years ago, you're lucky I remember as much as I do," Rufus told him. "Good-bye and good luck. Bobby."

"Thanks for hauling ass out here, Rufus," Bobby said in parting. "I appreciate it."

"I appreciate your appreciation, but you still owe me one."

"Get the hell outta my house, you old coot," Bobby grumbled. Despite the harshness of the words, his tone was fond and carried a playful edge.

"This dusty scrap heap? I can't show myself the door fast enough," Rufus shot back humorously. "I just pray I don't get tetanus on my way out."

Kaydie heard the door creak open and snap shut. For the first time, she peeked around the door frame to see Dean and Bobby seated at a small kitchen table. Dean frowned down at a small note.

"Well that's an unbelievable stroke of good luck, there," Bobby said, tipping his beer toward the note.

"Sure," Dean said half-heartedly, tucking the note into his shirt pocket. "I don't have a choice anymore, do I Bobby?"

"She didn't leave you with one."

"This is just all so screwed up. You know, even after I take care of Alice, hell's not going to stop coming after me."

"Not likely."

"When does it end, Bobby? Is this my life now? Always looking over my shoulder, always running?"

"Since when was that ever _not_ your life?" Bobby asked. "That's just the job, Dean. That's life for people like us. All we can do is keep running, keep fighting."

Kaydie frowned at the bleak portrait they were painting. She was familiar with the nomadic lifestyle most hunters lead, hopping from town to town, case to case. It was something she'd never had to do. Her entire life had been spent at home, with family who watched her back. It was still dangerous; hunting always was, no two ways about it, but it was nothing compared to what hunters like Bobby and Dean had to go through.

"I mean, hell, why do you think your Dad and me went so many years without speaking? I hate that he brought you and Sam up in this life. But what are you gonna do about it now?"

He settled back in his chair with a sigh, nursing his beer with regret written all over his features.

"Eventually, something gets us all. I hate to be a Debby downer, Dean, but eventually, something'll get you too... whether it's hell or the next thing."

Kaydie could stand it no longer. The atmosphere in the kitchen was starting to feel tense and heavy, like the mood at a wake.

"Well I hate to be a contrary Mary," she said, stepping into the room and catching their attention for the first time, "But I know plenty of hunters don't get gotten. No offense, but if your life expectancy is really that bad, I think you're probably doing the job wrong."

"Are all Smiths this condescending?" Bobby asked. "I thought it was just Alice, but you're even worse than she is."

"Bobby, Kaydie Smith, Kaydie, Bobby Singer," Dean introduced them briskly.

"Just bringing facts to the table," Kaydie told Bobby before turning her full attention on Dean. "So, when are you leaving?"

"Excuse me?"

"I heard enough to know you're going after Alice's body. I want in."

Kaydie's voice betrayed her intense animosity.

"Thanks but no thanks," Dean scowled. "I can handle this on my own."

"Don't be stupid, Dean," Kaydie scolded him. "If Alice catches wind of your plan-"

"I can handle Alice."

"Can you? 'Cause it kinda seemed like she handed you your ass back there."

"Yeah, well your face begs to differ," Dean shot back, crossing his arms over his chest obstinately. Kaydie hadn't seen herself but if her appearance matched the way she felt, she couldn't be all that pretty at the moment.

"Thanks for that by the way."

Kaydie took a deep breath, working hard to bury her anger. This was what her Grandmother had always warned her about, her temper getting in the way of her work. Disturbingly, she was also forced to compare herself to Alice. Another impulsive hot-head. Maybe Bobby was right about it running in the family, but Kaydie suddenly found herself with a new motive to keep her quick temper in check. The last thing she wanted was to be anything like Alice. Alice Smith was a dick.

"Look," she sighed, leaning against the wall and sticking her hands into her pockets. "It's your call, ok? But I'm not going anywhere. It's still my job to keep an eye on you. If you want me to hang back, fine. You won't even know I'm here. But it just seems like you could get this done faster with a little help."

"Yeah, about that," Dean growled. "How long are you creeps planning to tail me anyway?"

Kaydie shrugged.

"Beats me. I'm just following orders. Trust me, the minute I get the word, I'm off your ass faster than you can say 'good riddance'."

She remembered her angelic companion and frowned.

"Speaking of creeps, I don't suppose you've seen a guy in a trench coat? Yea high, blank gaze."

"What?"

"I'll take that as a no. How about my car?"

"After the fight I grabbed you and hauled ass," Dean said. "Excuse me if I didn't stop to look for your car and company."

"I don't suppose you'll give me a ride back out there to get it, huh?"

"And make it that much easier for you to stalk me?"

"Need I remind you that me stalking you was the only reason you're not still cuffed to that sink watching that psycho carve up your 'brother'?"

"You two are giving me a headache," Bobby complained, finishing his beer and tossing the bottle into the wastebasket. "Look, there's a bus stop less than a mile down the road. If I were you, I'd get a move on, 'cause leaving a car sitting downtown is a good way to get it broken into."

"You don't like house guests, huh?" Kaydie guessed, remembering his quick ejection of Rufus.

"House guests I don't mind. Rude house guests are another matter," Bobby said.

She wanted to snap at him, but managed to keep her cool.

"My bad," she said instead. "I guess we got off on the wrong foot this time. Maybe next time I'll be able to fix the impression."

Truth be told, she hoped there wouldn't be a next time. She wanted to see Alice's bones burned, but she hoped that soon after that, Greta would tell her she could leave Dean to his own devices.

"I'll be close if you change your mind," she told Dean on her way out. She needed to get to her car in case Bobby was right and someone took it upon themselves to smash her window in. She also needed to find a phone and get her Grandmother up to date.

Outside, she caught sight of Castiel lurking in the yard, watching the house. He didn't spare her a glance, though he must have known she was there, must have known she was looking right at him. Heck, taking his nature into account, Kaydie had to assume he knew she could use a lift. She wasn't bothered by the fact that he was, it would seem, willfully ignoring her. She had questions for him, but they could wait.

Assuming he kept watching Dean, their paths would cross again soon enough.

* * *

Alice walked into a tavern wearing Vera's tattered remains. She drew quite a few stares but ignored them. It was to be expected. She was a stranger in this small town and she looked like she'd been through hell. For all intents and purposes, she had. Her poor host had taken quite a beating. Vera's body was riddled with bullet holes that slowly leaked blood. Alice ignored it, but it left a spattered trail behind her that caught the attention of the other patrons. She took a seat at the bar in the midst of a tense, confused, horrified silence that begged to be broken.

"Tequila," she requested. "Sierra Silver if you've got it."

Tucked safely inside the skin of another faceless dead innocent, Alice didn't need Sierra's strength to wash down reality's bitter aftertaste, but she'd grown fond of the stuff during her time as a shapeshifter.

"You sure you wouldn't rather I called you an ambulance?" the bartender asked with a frown.

Alice smiled. She couldn't help feeling amused and a little delighted at the woman's concern and the discomfort her presence here was causing.

"Nah, I'm good," she assured her. "I just need a good strong drink before I meet with the devil."

Granted, Crowley wasn't _the_ devil. But she was sure he would be back to crawl up her ass some more after her recent failure. She knew he was watching. She knew he'd seen what had happened.

"Tell you what. You sit tight. I'll pour you a drink and have someone come out and take a look at you," the bartender told her.

"Waste of someone's time, but whatever makes you feel better," Alice said. She stopped the woman from pouring a shot. "You mind just handing me the bottle? Unless you feel like wasting your time pouring endless shots for me while someone else wastes their time rushing over here to treat a corpse."

Seriously spooked, the bartender left the bottle and hurried off to make her call. Unbothered, Alice took a long swig. Clear, acrid, not as strong as she'd grown accustomed to, but it would do the trick. She was wasting time as well. What else could she do? She knew Crowley was coming for her. She knew better than to think she could hide from him. All she could do was wait and drink.

"You know, it's unprofessional to drink on the job. I thought you were all about professionalism."

And just like that, her time was up. But rather than Crowley's thick accent, she heard another familiar voice at her side.

"Parsifal," she greeted him. She hated calling him that, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was antagonize him. Despite being more comfortable with her old acquaintance, Alice got the feeling that his appearance was worse news for her than if Crowley had shown up as expected. "Back topside that fast?"

"No one with any clout sticks around in that stinking cesspool longer than they have to," Parsifal explained. He gestured to the bottle she was nursing. "So, you wanna tell me what this is?"

"When life gives you lemons, drink 'til you get the taste out of your mouth," she replied.

"Right. And the lemons in your case are...?"

She was already pissed and him playing with her didn't help. The temperature in the bar dropped noticeably and frost crept up the side of her drink. Even so, she managed to stop herself from mouthing off at him. She had no doubt that he knew damn well what had transpired, but she decided to humor him.

"Too many lemons to count," she sighed. He was probably getting off on making her recount her failures to him. "I'm out of ideas. Dean's not going to hand his soul back over. Not now that he knows what that means."

She tipped her drink toward the door in a gesture of respect for the man in his absence.

"Are sure you're really out of ideas, or just too attached to him to get creative?" Parsifal pressed.

Attached. What a choice of words. Alice narrowed her eyes at the demon. Part of her wanted to keep playing politic in case she could buy herself some mercy. Most of her was full of rage and defiance and the effects of the tequila.

"I'm attached to shiny things and sharp objects," she said. "Dean Winchester is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. And you want me to sell him out to save my own skin."

"No, _you_ want to sell him out to save your own skin," Parsifal corrected her with a sadistic grin. "All we did was make you the offer, Alice. You're the one who took us up on it."

"Taking you up on it isn't the same as liking it."

"You don't need to like it. It's a job. All you need to do is get it done. Capiche?"

_I'm working on it._

That was the smart thing to say. That was what Alice should have said.

"Capiche this, you black-eyed bastard!" she said instead. She smashed the tequila bottle over his head in an irrational fit of rage. He sat stone still, seemingly unaffected by the broken glass and alcohol decorating his hair. For the second time, everyone in the establishment stopped, staring with a range of adverse reactions to the scene unfolding before them.

Alice immediately cursed her impulsiveness. Her second thought was something along the lines of ' _fuck it'._

"Bartender? I need another bottle if you've got it," she called. "And this guy's paying."

"Look, I get it," Parsifal told her. "You're angry. Who wouldn't be in your shoes?"

"Shut up, Percy," Alice snarled, emboldened by the fact that he hadn't dragged her back to hell just yet.

He held up two fingers.

"That was strike two," he told her calmly. "That's two more than most people get. The only reason you're still on that stool is for old time's sake."

Alice wasn't relieved by his leniency. He was wrong if he thought all it would take to get her back on task was a demonic pep talk sprinkled with a few gory threats. She'd taken her best shot at getting Dean to sign his soul away. If he wouldn't do it again for his brother, he wouldn't do it for the world. There was nothing she could do to change that. Inevitably, she was going to end up back in hell. At this point, it was only a question of how and for once, Alice didn't feel like stalling. She figured she only had a few hundred more years before she turned demon, a thousand at most. After that, she could bide her time until she made it topside.

"Now-"

Boldly, Alice interrupted Parsifal with a back handed slap. Usually, she was the punching type, but she wasn't interested in breaking her fist on his pretty lawyer face.

"Fuck you, Perse!" she snarled. "Fuck hell, fuck it all! Drag me back, see if I care! I'm done playing this stupid game of yours. You want Dean so bad? Do your own dirty work. Good luck to you... Dean might not be the best hunter I've ever met, but he's more than capable of taking care of you and whatever else hell throws at him!"

Parsifal brought his hand up to wipe a streak of blood from his nose. He examined it serenely while Alice held her breath, waiting for him to make his move. It seemed like it took him forever to meet her eyes. The anger that was absent from his face was distilled in his dark eyes which flooded with pitch while she watched. He waved his hand sharply and she felt like she'd been hit by a train. She flew from the bar stool, hit the ground hard and slid nearly all the way to the door as the room filled with gasps and shrieks.

Parsifal stood, plucking a napkin from the bar as he sauntered over to Alice's prone form. She struggled to rise, but he was standing over her before she could get to her feet. He seized and handful of her hair and helped her onto her knees as the few other bar goers made for the back exit.

"Smith," he said, tone level. If she was going to use a name he hated, he was going to repay the favor in kind. "What are you doing?"

Before she could answer, he let her know it was a rhetorical question by punching her in the throat hard enough to collapse her windpipe. Had she been alive, it would have been a death blow. Dead as she was, it was still incredibly unpleasant.

"This is a nice gesture, but what do you think it's going to accomplish?"

He twisted his hand in her hair, drawing a broken, gurgling whine from her mangled throat.

"There's no redemption for you," he reminded her. "You are what you are and that's all you're ever going to be. You're a murderer."

He released her hair and kicked her in the gut hard enough to send her flying into a table.

"You're a liar. You're a thief!"

He approached her as she lay dazed amid broken chairs, numbly regretting her decision to burn this bridge. Then again, it was one of a dozen crappy choices. All of them would eventually lead to her getting her ass kicked and tortured for a few more centuries.

"You're a disappointment to everyone who ever made the mistake of believing you had any good in you!" he went on, hauling her to her feet by her throat and then higher. She looked down at his mocking face, trying to remember what it felt like to be in more pain than this. The funny thing about pain was that while you were in it, it didn't matter how much worse you'd felt before. In the moment, it was always worse than ever.

"No one's going to miss you! No one's going to mourn you! Oh, and you know what else?"

He grinned in her face, close enough that she could smell his breath. It was minty and not unpleasant.

"You can forget about ever getting promoted. I'll make sure you rot on the rack until kingdom come and a little while after that too."

Those words broke Alice. She'd felt despair before, been mad out of her mind before, but never like this. She screamed at him and through her broken host the sound was inhuman and piercing. Cold wind swirled angrily through the room, disturbing Parsifal's suit jacket and slick hair and sending chairs flying everywhere. Bottles and glasses leapt from the shelves behind the bar and one by one the lights in the tavern went out as the bulbs burst overhead with small showers of sparks and splintered glass. It was a full on ghostly temper tantrum of the most epic proportions, but it wasn't enough to so much as faze Parsifal.

"Cute," he commented with a smile. "Time to go, Smith. You ready?"

Parsifal snapped his fingers, ending Alice's outburst as swiftly as it had begun.

This was it, she realized with all-consuming dread. He was going to take her to hell and she was going to stay there forever this time. No one was going to save her, no one was going to 'promote' her. All she had to look forward to was doom and gloom and never ending torment.

The door to the tavern opened and a man entered, interrupting the moment. The bar was completely dark and with the light at his back, Alice could make out none of the man's features. The blood in her eyes didn't help either.

"Wow, I thought the sign advertising ' _Wings so hot they're literally atomic_ ' was full of shit, but this seems legitimate," the man said. His voice struck Alice as familiar, but for the life of her she couldn't place it.

Parsifal dropped Alice, turning to investigate the appearance of this man who was so strangely unfazed by the wanton destruction in the tavern.

"Let me guess," the mystery man said, approaching Parsifal, either unaware or uncaring of the danger. "You're the hotshot demonic up and comer making waves by bringing intellectualism into the zoo of unadulterated brute force that is hell politics."

"Always nice to have my reputation precede me," Parsifal replied. "And you are?"

"The guy who's going to intervene before this story goes too far off the rails and gets a ton of bad reviews for being too much of a bummer," the man replied. He paused, reconsidering his words. "Aw, who am I kidding. As if this shit show is ever gonna get another review anyway, good or bad."

"What?" Parsifal frowned, sounding genuinely confused.

"Don't worry about it, buddy," the man said, clapping him on the shoulder. "At your pay grade, your head'd explode if I tried to explain it to you. Now, I don't want trouble. I'm just here to take the girl off your hands. That can happen the easy way or the stabby way."

Parsifal didn't know whether to be more amused or annoyed by the stranger.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but-"

"Ok then."

The stranger interrupted him, grabbed him by the collar and flipped him through the air into the bar with all the ease of someone swatting a fly. The minute Parsifal landed, the man plunged a knife that was almost long enough to be a short sword into his chest. All but senseless on the ground, Alice still had enough of her wits about her to properly identify it as a dirk.

"The stabby way," the man commented cheerfully.

Bright orange light flashed in the tavern as Parsifal gave a final, dying scream and then went silent. The light blinked out and the man pulled his dirk from the dead lawyer's chest. He approached Alice, kneeling at her side.

"Wow, Smith. I gotta say, you've looked better," he tsked, close enough now that Alice could see his face. She realized why his voice sounded familiar.

This was Loki, the Norse god of mischief she'd met so terribly long ago while sending Sam and Dean on their way back from 1992.

Out of pure shock, she tried to say 'you', but all that came out was a wet squelch.

"What was that? Oh right, you just got your ass handed to you six ways from Sunday," he said. From his tone, Alice inferred that he got some kind of twisted amusement out of her suffering. "Let's see if I can't do something to help you with that."

He touched two fingers to her forehead and her pain vanished. She took a deep, gasping breath. Not that she needed to, it just felt good. Somewhere deep in the recesses of their shared mind, she felt Vera's spirit stirring. A veritable miracle.

"You!" Alice gasped now that she was able.

"That's right," Loki grinned. "It's me, your friendly neighborhood deus ex machina. You're welcome, by the way."

Alice had so many questions.

"What... how... why-"

"How about we blow this pop stand before you start the expository interrogation that is the hallmark of lazy narration?" Loki suggested. "As nasty as that bag of dicks was, he was just the messenger. There's plenty more where he came from."

He stood and offered her his hand. Dazed from the whole experience and lacking a better option, Alice took it.


	11. No Way Out

Alice's head spun. Her eyes ached. Her brain wasn't fast enough to keep up with what was happening around her as the Trickster whisked her away. His choice of venue didn't help either. Wherever they were now, it was dark and smoky and it stank of sweat and stale beer. Colored lights strobed and blinked overhead, making it impossible for her eyes to adjust to the room.

"What the hell is this, a... a..."

A waitress in a bikini walked by their table with a tray of shots.

"Did you bring me to a strip joint?" she demanded.

"Hey, I'd like a little gratitude, if it's not too much to ask," Loki scolded her. "I just saved your butt. A thank you would be nice."

"I had the situation under control," Alice lied.

"Sure you did. That's why your body was pulp and that demon was getting ready to drag you back to hell where you belong," Loki snarked.

"No one asked for your help," she pointed out. Glad as she was to be out of danger, for the moment at least, she was wary of this Trickster. Unlike Huehuecoyotl, Loki had no compunctions about playing the nastiest pranks imaginable. Last she'd heard of him had been at the mystery spot where he'd killed Dean at least three dozen times just to screw with Sam's head.

"Well, if you really didn't need my help, I could always turn time back a tick," he said, raising his right hand with his fingers poised to snap. "Let you wiggle your way out on your own."

"No!" Alice shouted, panicking. He lowered his hand.

"That's what I thought. So how about a thank you?" Loki demanded.

"Thank you," Alice allowed grudgingly. "Now tell me why you did it."

"What, you don't believe I'm a good samaritan?" Loki asked with a chuckle. He stopped a waitress. "Ooh, honey, honey. You know what I want, right?"

"Right away, boss," the girl replied. She trotted away with a fluffy white rabbit tail bobbing after her. The Trickster whistled in appreciation while Alice scowled in disgust.

"Keep making that ugly face and I'll put you in the same outfit she has on," Loki threatened playfully, reading her revulsion. "Smile. You're not dead. Not yet, anyway."

Alice would have killed for a pine stake. She would have killed for a circle of runes to protect her. As happy as she was to not be in hell, she absolutely did not feel like smiling. She forced herself to anyway, but it was stiff and unenthusiastic.

"Ah, you're no fun!" Loki exclaimed. "Keep it up and this'll be the last party I bring you to."

Alice was starting to recover some of her wits, most of which were still scattered on the floor of the tavern back in Sioux Falls.

"If I'd known I was coming to a party I'd have brought a little hat," she said grudgingly.

"Done!"

Loki snapped and Alice braced herself for the worst. She clenched her eyes shut and tensed, waiting. After a minute, she opened them again. The waitress was back, setting down a line of shots and a platter containing fruits and what Alice could only guess was a pile of sugar. It took her a minute to figure out that the only thing Loki had done with his snap had been to place a paper cone party hat on her head. Its tassels tickled her nose, doing their best to make her sneeze. She tossed her head, throwing them out of her face.

"Have a drink, relax a little," Loki urged. He dipped a strawberry into one of his shots and rolled it around in the sugar. He knocked the shot back and chased it with the strawberry. Alice didn't feel like she had much choice at this point but to do what he said and hope he hadn't brought her here to humiliate and kill her. Gingerly, she picked up a tiny glass. It smelled like whiskey. She drank it, half-expecting it to be something nasty, but it was only alcohol.

"Come on, you can do better than that," Loki scoffed.

"Screw it," she shrugged. "If I'm gonna die I may as well do it drunk."

Loki applauded her delightedly as she knocked back five shots in quick succession. Her eyes watered and her throat burned, but she now felt pleasantly warm. Vera wasn't a drinker and the shots that wouldn't have fazed Alice in her own skin went right to her head.

"Ok, as fun as it would be to keep screwing with you, I don't want you to have a stroke," Loki informed her. "I'm not going to kill you. That doesn't even make any sense. If I wanted you dead I would have just kept minding my own business."

His words did nothing to comfort Alice, but she was giddy enough from the whiskey shots that she had to stop herself from giggling. Vera had no alcohol tolerance and Alice was starting to regret drinking so much so fast. Her vision swam and the world spun around her.

"Just so I'm three hundred percent sure," she said, holding the edge of the table to steady herself. "You didn't put something in those drinks, did you?"

"No, you're not my type," Loki assured her. "Not quite blonde enough, even in your true form. And anyway, I'm a gentleman."

"Sure."

Alice scowled, then quickly fixed her face back into a fake smile. She wasn't sure what he meant by her 'true form' but the idea that she wasn't in it was a little depressing.

"This vessel's just a lightweight then," she sighed, her words slurring ever so slightly. She cleared her throat, trying not to let him see just how fucked up she was at this point.

Then again, she thought, her day just kept getting shittier and shittier. Alice gave up the facade and picked up another shot, tipping the amber liquid from side to side as she considered drowning herself in it. There was a good reason she mostly drank tequila. Whiskey didn't mix well with her personality type, but already five drinks in, her judgement was shot. She downed the sixth, then reached for the seventh and last shot on the table.

"Ironic, you calling that poor hijacked body a vessel," Loki scoffed. "Then again, I've got no room to preach."

"Look, I'm loaded," Alice interrupted him. Over the course of only a few hours, she'd managed to burn her bridges with both hell and Dean. She could feel the whiskey slowly burning through her blood like sweet, depressing poison. Slowly but surely, it was drudging up all her grief, resurrecting her grievances. She felt helpless and blue, angry at the world but too busy moping to do anything about it.

"I figure we've got about ten minutes before I curl up in the corner and start wailing about how bad my life sucks," she informed the Trickster. "If you brought me here to make some kind of point, you'd better make it fast."

"Ew, I can't stand a sad drunk," Loki grimaced. "Terrible company. Fine, you're right. I didn't save you from that demon out of the goodness of my heart. I've got a job I need done and I thought you might be interested."

Alice felt like everyone and their mother wanted something from her. Heaven, hell, and now the pagans?

"I'm not," she assured him. All she wanted in the world was to go back to living under the radar. At this point, that seemed as impossible as pigs learning how to fly.

"Don't be so sure about that," Loki said with a smirk. "You see, I happen to know you've got beef with your family."

"I don't have any family," Alice grumbled, wishing for another shot as the world started to spin faster around her.

"Hey, I get it," Loki said, reaching for another strawberry. "They're dicks. I come from a long line of dicks myself."

Right. Alice wasn't too familiar with Norse mythology, but she knew enough to remember that they had their fair share of family drama. It didn't make them special. Any mythos that boasted a pantheon of deities usually portrayed them as backstabbing, conniving, self-interested pricks. All in all... Loki was right, that pretty much described the family she'd been so briefly and unpleasantly acquainted with.

"Which means I know how much you'd love to screw them over," Loki went on. "What do you say?"

"Keep talking."

"I need someone to take them out of the picture. All the way out of the picture, for good."

Alice wondered what exactly that meant, but she didn't want to jump the gun by asking him how he thought she could accomplish such a lofty goal. There was a more pressing question she needed answered first.

"Why?"

"Because right now they're some of the most important pieces on the chess board," Loki explained. "Heaven's using them to get what it wants. You do know what that is, don't you?"

"To... get rid of demons? Keep Dean out of hell?"

Loki rolled his eyes at her.

"Come on, Smith, you can do better than that! Think big picture."

"They want... to stop the apocalypse?" Alice guessed. After all, that was the point of sending her looking for Dean's soul, right? The demons wanted to end the world, the angels wanted to stop them.

"So cold!" Loki lamented. "Seriously, you didn't figure it out when you were swimming around in your cousin's skull?"

Alice was racking her brain, but nothing was coming to her. She put her hands up in surrender and Loki sighed.

"Maybe she doesn't know either," he wondered aloud. "At the end of the day, heaven and hell want the same thing. You-"

He pointed sharply at Alice.

"- Did your job too fast. Either that, or heaven didn't think Dean-O would hold out as long as he did. Whatever happened, the whole dance is thrown out of whack. There's a big fat wrench in the wheel of the endtimes and heaven wants it removed just as bad as hell does."

"Heaven... wants the world to end?" Alice asked skeptically.

"Well sure. Why not? That's the end all-be all kiddo. Kingdom come, as long as everything goes according to plan," Loki said. "Which, of course, so far it isn't. Heaven was hoping you would do what hell wanted, get the apocalypse back on track for both sides, but now that you've decided to tell hell to stick it where the sun don't shine- ballsy move, by the way... well, heaven's going to have to step in."

Alice put a hand to her forehead. She was having a hard time keeping up with the revelations and it didn't help that the world was spinning a little too fast and her stomach was churning sickeningly.

"As I'm sure you know, they never do their own dirty work," Loki went on, oblivious to Alice's discomfort. "Whatever their next move is, they'll use the Smiths to make it. Which is where you come in."

"Hold that thought," Alice groaned. She stood and almost fell right back on her ass. Through the colorful blinking lights that threatened to give her an aneurysm, she spotted the comforting, solid white of a restroom sign. She made a break for it, knowing she was about to be sick. As she lurched through the door just in time, she struggled to remember the last time she'd drunk herself sick. She found that she couldn't. What did come to mind was the first time she'd ever been sick from drinking.

As she retched into the toilet, she took a trip down memory lane. She remembered being thirteen, huddled in the same position in a motel bathroom. It was, if memory served, the very first time she'd ever gotten drunk. It was her birthday. The first birthday she spent alone, after her Grandmother's death. She remembered being a sobbing, snotty mess, wallowing in self pity. She had no one and nothing in the entire world. Her young heart was an open, festering wound and her grief was a black hole from which she could imagine no escape. She remembered puking her guts out, passing out on the cold motel tile that was her only comfort. She remembered waking up the next morning, disgusted with herself and resolving never to drink again as long as she lived.

She remembered forgetting that resolve the very next weekend when another opportunity presented itself to steal another bottle of whiskey. Back down the rabbit hole she'd gone.

"You didn't strike me as the type that couldn't hold their liquor," the Trickster observed at her back. His voice yanked her back to reality. Stinking, aching reality. Not that the memories she'd been visiting were any more pleasant than the present. She moaned in pain and pulled herself to her feet, staggering to one of the sinks.

"I thought you said you were a gentleman," she groaned, rinsing her mouth out and splashing cool water on her face. She imagined that heaven felt like this water, for those lucky enough to earn it.

"That stands."

"Gentlemen don't chase you into the ladies' room," Alice pointed out.

"This isn't the ladies room," Loki rebutted.

As if to prove his point, a man stumbled in singing off-key, too drunk to notice Alice. She groaned and let her forehead fall onto the faucet. It wasn't the worst place she'd ended up after getting too drunk, she told herself. That thought just made her feel worse.

"Whhhyy," she moaned loudly, "Why, why, why? Am I _such_ a piece of shit?"

"Ok, this is ridiculous," Loki scowled. "Next time I take you out for shots, you're the designated driver, got it? Here."

He touched two fingers to the back of her head and instantly, her headache and nausea disappeared. Jarringly, Alice was sober again. Glad as she was to have her senses back, they unfortunately made her aware of just how filthy the bathroom was.

"Ugh!" she cringed, straightening quickly to get her face out of the dirty sink basin. She recomposed herself quickly, frowning at the Trickster. "You say that like we're going to be hanging out together a lot."

"Well, we could be," he said. "If you decide to take me up on my offer."

"Sure," Alice scoffed. "Because the last deal I made with one of you pricks worked out so nicely."

"Didn't it? I mean, you got away with your unbreakable oaths, didn't you?" Loki pointed out.

"I got my grandma killed," Alice shot back. "My sister too."

"Really? I missed the part where Allison died!"

"She's been as good as dead since Ruby got her hands on her."

"Wow, grim outlook," Loki shuddered. "Come on, kid, that's ancient history. It's time to get over it. Anyway, it wasn't your fault. You didn't get anybody killed. I mean, they were both hunters for crissakes! They knew what they signed up for. If that demon didn't get them, something else would have. It wasn't your fault. You need to move on."

Alice wasn't sure what Loki's angle was, but he was making her uncomfortable.

"Are you a Trickster or a fucking shrink?!" she demanded. "Make your damn offer already so I can tell you to shove it up your ass!"

"Don't write my proposal off before I even make it," Loki said. "It's a sweet deal. Look."

He held his hand out, and before Alice could blink, a small white brick appeared there. He tossed it to her and she caught it deftly, examining it suspiciously. It was malleable and smelled of tar. Her fingers left little dents in its surface as she turned it over.

"C4?" she asked. The pyromaniac buried deep inside her was immediately delighted. The dominant, practical side of her quickly stomped out that excitement. As much as she loved explosives, she rarely used them. As a matter of fact, aside from being taught how to use them, she had never actually used them. They were loud and made a mess. There were always cleaner, quieter ways to get the job done.

"Yep. Here's the deal; I get you as much of that stuff and whatever else your psycho little heart desires, and you blow the Smiths off the map for me. And in case that's not enough to get you interested, I'll sweeten the pot a little. Get it done and I'll let you join my party."

"Why the hell would I want anything to do with you?" Alice demanded.

"Well, for starters, I'll keep hell's fiery claws off you," Loki said. "Not to mention that my life is fun. You'd like it. Non-stop party."

Alice wasn't interested in a non-stop party, but she was extremely interested in staying out of hell. Even so, she was dubious.

"You can't keep me out of hell," she said. "The demons that are going to come after me, the reapers... hell, a few bored angels might decide to take a stab at sending me packing. You're just a piece of shit, dime a dozen norse deity. You don't have the juice to keep those kind of players at bay."

"Don't be so sure about that," Loki said with a glint in his eye. Something slipped from his sleeve, pale silver and silent as death, drawing Alice's eye. She recognized the blade's distinct design immediately. "There's more to me than meets the eye, Smith. Don't forget, I took care of your demon friend back there without breaking a sweat."

"Where did you get that?" she asked. Angel blades were difficult to come by.

"That's for me to know and you not to worry about," he smirked. The blade disappeared with a flicker, like a mirage. Alice wondered if it was just an illusion, but remembered that Parsifal was dead as a doornail. He hadn't been killed by a mirage. Alice was starting to compile quite a list of questions for Loki, but she forced herself back to the most relevant of them.

"Remind me why you want the Smiths blown up?"

"They're heaven's blunt tools, building the gallows from which the world will hang," Loki said eloquently.

"Right. And you can't blow them up yourself because...?"

"Come on! You've seen their fortress!" Loki exclaimed. "That place is warded like you wouldn't believe! I can't set foot within a hundred yards of the place."

"If you can't get in how the hell do you expect me to get in?" Alice demanded.

"You're creative. Resourceful. I'm sure you'll figure something out," Loki replied. "Plus, I'll help as much as I can, of course. So. What do you say?"

Alice considered carefully. She had been burnt dealing with Tricksters before, but he made a compelling case. After all, she thought, what was she not willing to do to stay out of hell?

"Can I have a little time to think about it?" she requested.

"You've got til I finish my fruit platter and feel up the waitress who brought it to me," Loki told her. "Don't think too long."

He left and Alice lingered, chewing her nails while she processed everything he had just told her. She needed a drink. A good drink, not fucking whiskey. Also not tequila. Maybe vodka.

The drunk, humming man stumbled out of the stall at long last, noticing Alice on his way out. He backed up unsteadily with a dumb grin.

"Aw, whatcha doin' in here doll? Lost?" he drawled, getting too close. Alice sidestepped, ignoring him and heading for the door with a roll of her eyes. The man blocked her path, undaunted.

"Come on, don't be like that," he slurred. He towered over her. No doubt he felt safe, unaware of the inhuman nature of his would-be prey.

"Do you want to fucking die today?!" Alice snarled, irritated. Even without ghostly advantages, she had the training to drop him in five seconds flat.

"Ok, ok! Tough chick, huh?"

He tried to grab her, but she stepped back, shifted all her weight to her her left foot, and swung her right high. Her heel connected with the side of the man's head as he stumbled forward, thrown off balance by his own clumsy attempt to put his hands on her. He went down like a sack of potatoes, prone on the bathroom floor. Alice considered killing him just for the hell of it, but decided he wasn't worth it. The guy was drunk out of his mind and hardly a challenge.

 _Was Dr. Avery a challenge?_ she couldn't help but ask herself as she strolled past the man. What made her worth killing if this guy wasn't?

Alice admitted to herself that it was as simple as a change of mood. When she'd let herself kill Avery on impulse, she'd been upset and backed into a corner. This guy was just lucky. She still had to think Loki's offer over, but despite herself, she was pretty excited about it.

* * *

Sam, Ruby and Anna rode together in tense silence. Though the girl had come with them willingly, Sam knew it was only because she felt like she had no other choice. There was nowhere else for her to go. If he was being honest, Sam didn't have anywhere for them to go either. At this point they were just on the run, retreating from the threat of Alastair. He met her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, but she looked away quickly. Sam's gaze moved to Ruby, staring expressionlessly out the window. He had to face the reality that her story didn't hold much water. Still, there was one way to find out for sure. If Dean was back, there was someone who would know.

"Bathroom break, anyone?" he announced, pulling off the highway into a rest area.

"I'm fine," Ruby sighed.

"I-I could go," Anna admitted.

"Ruby, go with her," Sam instructed, getting out of the car.

"I should just give in to my destiny and take up babysitting professionally," Ruby grumbled. "Hell, I could aim for the big bucks and open a daycare center."

Never the less, she escorted Anna into the ladies' room. Sam waited until they were out of sight, before wandering away from the car and opening his phone. He dialed a number that he hadn't dialed in months. It rang a few times and Sam checked his back nervously, hoping for an answer.

"Yeah?"

Bobby's rough voice was like music to Sam's ears.

"Bobby. It's Sam."

"Sam?! Boy, where the hell have you been?" Bobby growled. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for months!"

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said. "I've been... busy. Look, I don't have much time."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I heard something crazy. I wanted to see if you'd heard anything about it."

"What's that?"

"I heard... I heard someone say Dean was back from the dead," Sam said. "Back from hell."

"That is crazy. No, I haven't heard anything like that. Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam hesitated before answering, taking a moment to process Bobby's words. He was disappointed, but there was something else... something didn't feel right.

"Look, Bobby, I can't talk right now," Sam said carefully, suspicion filling his heart.

"Sam-"

"I'll call you back."

Sam ended the call abruptly but didn't put his phone away. He stared at it for a long time, waiting for Bobby to call him back. The real Bobby Singer wouldn't let him go that easily, not after he'd been out of contact for so long and especially not in light of the subject of their call. After Dean's death, Bobby had tried so hard to get him to let it go, to accept what was and move on with his life. The real Bobby Singer would call him back and demand to know where he was, why he was asking about Dean. The real Bobby Singer wouldn't dismiss what Sam heard as rumor.

"Sam!"

Ruby's voice at his back sent a chill down his spine. He turned to see her waving him back to the car. He tucked his phone into his pocket, keeping a poker face as he walked back to join her.

"Stretch your legs after we get more distance between us and Alastair," she told him. Sam examined her expression carefully. Her features held no sign of deception... except something in her eyes that he saw every so briefly. It was gone so fast that it could just as easily have been his imagination, but Sam swore she looked smug.

"Right."

They drove on in silence, though Sam's head was anything but quiet. Painstakingly, he devised a plan. He was going to get the truth once and for all about Ruby.

* * *

Dean packed for his trip to find and burn Alice's bones. To say his heart was heavy would have been an understatement. His heart felt like it was done with life's bullshit and ready to pack a bag of it's own and run away to Vegas without him. He'd gotten in too deep with Alice and now he knew that had been a mistake. The worst part was that deep down, he'd known better all along. He just talked himself into believing that she was a better person than she gave herself credit for.

It turned out Alice knew herself through and through. He should have left well enough alone.

His phone rang. Not recognizing the number, Dean answered it.

"Yeah?

"Hey, Dean."

Alice.

Dean snapped the phone shut with a scowl. She was the last person he wanted to hear from right now. What could she possibly have to say to him anyway? Did she think she could lure him into another trap? Maybe talk him into signing his soul away a second time? Whatever it was, Dean decided he didn't need to know. He kept packing.

His phone rang again. Same number. He let it go to voicemail.

It rang a third time. This time he declined the call. His finger hovered over the 'block caller' button, but he couldn't bring himself to press it. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and finished packing. From the back of his jeans, his phone informed him that he had a new message. He ignored it for the moment, grabbing his bag and heading down the stairs. He said a passing good-bye to Bobby and left the house with the feeling that he was forgetting something. Unable to put his finger on what it was, he forged ahead, getting into the car Bobby was loaning him. He started it up, but something was bugging him, pressing on the back of his mind irritatingly. It wouldn't let him go just yet.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to hear anything Alice had to say. He debated with himself for a few minutes before he finally played the voicemail she'd left him.

"Dean, I... I, uh..."

Alice was silent for so long that Dean almost thought the message was over. Finally, she spoke again. He could tell she'd been drinking.

"Look, I get it if you don't want to talk to me. That's fine, I just... I just called to say I'm sorry. Not that it means much now, I guess. You should know I'm done coming after you. Hell isn't, I'm sure, but I am. Be careful out here, ok? Don't let them drag you back down there. We both know you're no saint, but you don't deserve that either."

Alice paused and chuckled.

"You know, I just realized you might not even hear this. Damn. I really fucked up, huh? I hate to keep making excuses for myself, but... well, it's _hell._ I didn't want to go back. It was nothing personal. No, wait, that's stupid... of course it was personal."

She was quiet again for a long time. Dean could hear that she was somewhere crowded. Music played and people spoke in tangled, indecipherable chorus in the background.

"I'm just sorry it had to end like this," she finally said. "It was fun while it lasted. Hey... I know this is a long shot, but... I mean, if you ever need a hand with..."

She laughed, sounding a little unhinged.

"I know I've gotta be the last person on the planet you would call. But just in case. You've got my number."

The message ended with a beep, leaving Dean alone in the silence of its aftermath, slowly absorbing the meaning of what she'd said. Good-bye. It felt so final to hear it said aloud, even though he hadn't been planning on seeing her again. He was struck by the urge to call her back, to say good-bye properly, but how? Alice had no idea her days were numbered. She didn't know he was on his way to kill her, this time for good. The thought that he had to be the one to do the deed struck him through the heart like one of the knives she was so fond of. He was angry at Alice, hurt by what she'd tried to do to him, but underneath all that anger and hurt, there were still a lot of other emotions. Ones he didn't dare give name to.

He ignored them and forced himself to put his phone away. He had no choice, he kept telling himself. Alice needed to die. Though she claimed she was done coming after him, he didn't know if it was the truth. Even if it was, it didn't make her any less of a wild card.

_"Alice is dangerous. It's high time someone took care of her for good."_

Alice's own words, Dean realized with hindsight.

"What a piece of work," he groaned aloud, throwing the car into gear and taking off. Just as he hit the highway, he remembered what it was that he was forgetting, what was itching in the back of his mind that he'd been unable to pin down on his way out of Bobby's.

He'd completely forgotten about Danny up until now.

"I'll kill the son of a bitch when I'm done with Alice," he said aloud to himself.


End file.
